Almost Heaven, West Virginia
by I'm Miss World
Summary: "You can be our very own Belle Starr someday when we's makin' every headline in these here United States." If Libby Sawyer had known the weight of Cap Hatfield's words back then when they were kids, she might've been smart enough to never fall in love with him. Nothing was more difficult than loving a Hatfield in the midst of the feud, just ask Roseanna McCoy. Cap/OC
1. Part I

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the _Hatfields and McCoys_ series. Though historical accuracy may appear, this is a work of pure fiction. I do not claim any connection to the real William 'Cap' Hatfield, or any other historical people mentioned in this story. Newspaper articles inspired by existing wanted posters from the time period.

**A/N:** In love with this miniseries. I have seriously watched it a zillion times by now. So here goes nothing. Please don't forget to review!

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**Almost Heaven, West Virginia  
Part I**

* * *

_Hatfield Cabin _  
_Logan, West Virginia, 1863_

"My stars. I see it with my eyes, but I don' believe it." The man who'd spoken pulled his hat from his head, pushing his dusty brown hair away from his eyes to get a closer look in the midday sun. "Devil Anse Hatfield? That you?"

The man in question stood at the opening of his front door, having woken up at an unusually late hour on his first morning home since retreating back to Logan County from his cavalry. He hadn't expected any visitors this early, knowing it couldn't be any of his kin, since they tended to let themselves inside.

The visitor thought the old friend in front him would only come back in a casket, if at all, having heard tales of the Confederacy's losing battle against the Union. Chester 'Savage Chet' Sawyer had served in the ongoing war for the south already, under Anse's platoon no less, before he was shot in the shoulder and sent back home to Logan County, West Virginia to recuperate, unable to hold his gun properly with the injury. And his strong arm, at that. He was still feeling the effects of the damage done to the limb, but the wound was healing nicely, and Doc Rutherford had said it looked like it would be fully functioning in time, as long as he took care not to overuse it.

The day Chet'd been shot he was sure would be the last day he'd ever lay eyes on his cavalry leader, William Anderson Hatfield. Anse to his friends. Devil to those who feared him.

But here he stood, in the flesh, still in one piece. "War's done. Known it since before you got hit with that Yankee bullet." They had shared their cynical views on the outcome of the war together before Chet had been wounded, and by the defeated look on his friend's face, Chet could tell things had not improved any.

Chester would never utter the word_ 'desertion' _at Devil Anse Hatfield, no sir. The man had been a mentor to him in his younger years, and was likely the man Chet respected most in the world. For him to be standing here though, Chet knew that was what had been done. But the man couldn't lie and say he hadn't considered doing the same before he got hurt. He'd already left his lonely, pregnant wife, and couldn't bear to do it again now. Anse had wanted what they'd all wanted; to go home alive, and the man had just ensured that he had. Chet couldn't persecute or blame him.

The war was already lost for the South, if proud men like Anse and Chet saw it that way.

It had been six months since etChet had been waiting here at home for over six months now, waiting for any sign of victory… or defeat, which it seemed in this case, he could count on. He and Jim Vance had kept the Logan Wildcats alive away from the field as best they could back here, though it consisted mainly of capturing and killing straggling Yanks.

Unsure of how he was about to be received by his colleague, Anse waited for a reaction from him. He'd known the younger man all his life. Chet was even a major investor in Anse's timber business, and donated acres of land to the cause. He was the man holding down the fort when Anse was still out fighting, along with Jim and Lias, but Chet had the financially stable mind of the three, and kept the books. Which was fine for now, Doc advising Chet not to push his luck in the tree groves by getting back to the physical labor before his shoulder was fully healed.

Anse couldn't decipher what was occurring through the mind of Savage Chet, as his face had contorted into somewhat of a blank stare, almost as though he realized he might really be looking at a ghost. Hope for confederate victory had dwindled greatly, and honestly, most never expected to see the brave men who rebelled against the Union again. To see the leader of their cavalry, still standing here breathing, was a miracle in itself.

Not another hesitant moment passed before Chet moved forward, roughly embracing the man he called a brother though they shared no blood. Anderson Hatfield was home, and alive, and now, life could go on as it once was.

Both chuckling deeply and clapping one another on the back, they pulled away simultaneously, Anse stepping aside to invite his friend in. "Levicy's just makin' some ham an' eggs. Yer welcome ta join."

Chet declined, waving his hands. "No, I won't intrude brother. Jus' needed ta see ya with my own two eyes 's all. An' congratulations on that boy a yers." Anse had only just seen how his firstborn Johnson, had grown upon his arrival back at home while Chet had been watching him grow these past few months.

Things seemed restored now, right to Chet, the feeling in the air settling now that Anse was back. So many looked up to and depended on him. They'd all helped Levicy as best they could in his absence, but he could see the woman's exhausted face as he tipped his hat to her in brief greeting from where she stood over her cooking. He noticed now though, there seemed to be a joy in her eyes that had been missing. Her husband was home and alive. She looked much like his own wife had the day he'd rode into the front yard himself, shoulder bandaged, but still alive, and in these times, that was what mattered most of all.2

"We're blessed today Chet," she called to him with a smile, pure happiness etched into her voice.

"Yes m'am, it seems so." Focusing back on Anse, Chet gave him a small nod. "I won't keep ya. Jus' wonderin' though… any news from the cavalry? What of the others?" It was a solemn question, but one Anse knew he would need to answer.

Anse's face became remorseful, knowing they both had friends and family fighting the hopeless fight. Anse closed the door behind him, walking outside onto the porch and leaning against the railing. The smell of Levicy's cooking wafted through the cool, early morning air, and Anse took a second to savor it, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. Lord, how he'd missed that smell.

Chet sat on a bench Ellison had carved that was kept on the porch alongside the rocker, hands on his knees, awaiting a response. He was expecting grave news.

When Anse looked back at Chet, he told him the truth. "I don't know what's become… of anyov 'em. Not now. The battle was lost. I made 'em retreat and held off the Yanks as best I could. Lucky ta escape with my life at all. Blew some kid's brains… allover the place. Didn't even flinch." He became lost, reliving the moment, one of the many that had turned him harder than he used to be, which seemed almost impossible when he wasn't made of stone. "Guessin' they're either dead, prisoners, 'r they smartened up like me an' came back ta their families. War's lost. Ain't much use in 'em dyin' fer it, so that's what I hope fer."

Chet was silent for a minute before he bitterly chuckled. "Hell, knew that 'fore I even got shot." He and Anse had had sat nights by the fire, discussing their desires and making false threats to just go home, false until now anyway. Both had left behind pregnant wives, Chet having already lost his first son at birth.

"Thought Ol' Rand'll McCoy was gonna shoot me. Caught me packin' my horse. Guess he thought better of it though Proud man, that McCoy." He pushed off the railing and stared off into the sunrise. "I saved 'em all before that. I saved 'em all when hope seemed lost. Thought about my wife, my little boy, my brothers. I needed to come back. I tried to tell him ta do the same… but you know him. Always was more of a… god fearin' man than you or I."

This was heavy information. If Devil Anse himself had abandoned his post, then there truly was no hope. The North had won.

A long silence passed between them, filled only by the morning crickets and birds chirping away before Chet spoke. "I'll pray fer him. I'll pray fer 'em all."

Remorsefully, Anse turned back to Chet and approached him. "Speakin' a prayers, ol' friend… give Lucy my condolences. Fate is unkind, but works in mysterious ways. The right time will come." He placed a comforting hand, towering above Chet, whose head hung low.

"Another son. Just when we think everythin's right…"Chet's wife had taken ill, resulting in another stillborn child, another lost son, their second now. Fighting back tears, Chet stood quickly, again embracing his comrade. The loss of his second child had been tragic and strained Chester's marriage greatly. Lucy was always under the weather, spending most of her time locked away in the house, sleeping, eating or not, and rocking the empty cradle while staring out the window at the family plot, where both boys lay buried.

She was not a woman like Levicy, who gladly got her hands dirty farming or tending the animals. No, instead she had been educated to read and write and play instruments, a true finishing girl, a proper lady. In these hills, those kinds weren't necessarily popular, but Chet had chosen to marry the girl from the North even still, lucky enough to afford assistance with the things she was too prim to bother with. Cooking was her rare talent, but even that seemed to make her miserable now. Instead of the once excitable girl from the city in the north she had once been, enthusiastic in her romance with Chet, Lucy was now the hollow shell of that young woman, aged now and tied. And both their misery was becoming more than Chet could handle on his own. The sorrow was consuming them both, and destroying their unconventional love.

"This should be a joyous occasion. No more talk of lost children of waning wives." Chet didn't want to burden his friend with these problems, not today. Anse of course, obliged, shaking the man's hand as they pulled away. "I'll leave you to your breakfast. Seeing you here gives me faith I thought was lost, brother."

* * *

_Sawyer Cabin_  
_Logan, West Virginia, 1866_

The pacing motions of Chet wearing the soles of his work boots across the porch of the Hatfield's was the only sound through the thickening silence previously drowned out by the moans and groans of Lucy Sawyer as she gave birth for the third time, the sudden quiet an good indication the child was out, and Chet feared the worst, as did both Devil Anse and his brother Ellison, each men showing support for their life-long friend.

Chet stopped suddenly, shaking his head sadly, too familiar with the quiet. It would be another baby born dead, their third, another son likely. Chester had promised his wife this would be their last if it didn't survive. They would not try again, as she couldn't bear to go through another birth, only to have a dead child in return.

Even Johnse and William sat quietly, both boys not entirely aware of the severity of the situation, but feeling the air around them calling for their silence. Johnse sat tall at his father's feet, four years old now, Will seated on Anse's lap, a wooden block clutched tightly in one hand, though he was ignoring it, the younger of Anse's children just past two years old now. He had successfully bore another son, while his friend and his wife instead had suffered the loss of another child at birth. Guilt consumed him, and he searched for words of comfort, though he thought of none.

The door opened to reveal Levicy, blood staining the apron she wore and wisps of hair sticking to her sweat-covered brow, tears streaming down her rouged cheeks. She had midwived over the two stillbirths beforehand, but her tight-lipped smile rocked Chet with confusion this time. "A girl." And a second later, he heard the distinct sound of an infant crying. "A _healthy_, baby girl."

Rushing past her, wide eyed, Chet made his way to the bed where his wife had given birth, seeing her looking exhausted and pale, though her eyes and smile brightened the entire room as she held a bundle of white sheets to her chest, Doc Rutherford drying his hands near the washbin as the new father entered. "Congratulations, my boy," he said, shaking the man's hand gladly as a smile spread over his face for what felt like the first time in his life.

In a daze, he made his way to Lucy, perching on the edge of the bed and looking down at the face of his first surviving offspring, no matter that it was a girl. All that mattered was she was healthy and beautiful, just as he was pleased to see he was when he first looked into her impossibly dark blue eyes through the small slits she seemed to peer at him from. She was fair-haired, like her mother, with a sweet face, pink rosebud lips suckling aimlessly at nothing, arms reaching out to him.

Scooping her up into his arms, he smiled brightly, raising her above his head and staring up at her lovingly. "I'll brig her right back. Elizabeth, is it still?" Chet questioned his wife, that having been the name they'd discussed, after her mother.

"Elizabeth Grace," she affirmed despite the obvious drowsiness in her appearance and voice. Lucy's eyes drifted shut in her exhaustion, though she continued to talk. "Our sweet Elizabeth."

Heart filled with warmth, Chet left his wife to sleep, placing a kiss atop her head before bringing the baby outside to see daylight for the first time. It had been an early July morning when Lucy had gone into labor, and six hours later, the sun was still shining bright high in the sky now.

Joyful chuckles from the men echoed through the open area of land as they passed the child around, each commenting on the beauty of her, the first girl of the bunch. Ellison had none of his own, and Anse only had the two boys.

"She's little… an' wrinkly," Johnse piped up as he peered at her while his uncle Ellison cradled her lovingly.

"Mark my words boy, you an' yer brother are gonna be chasin' this one 'round someday. Along with every other boy in Logan County," Ellison teased, passing the newborn over to Anse before he reached out and ruffled Johnse's blonde locks as the child pulled a face.

Anse laughed deep in his throat, wondering what a little girl of his own would look like, his wife's belly plump with the early swell of their third child. "Whatdya think 'a this little baby, huh Will?"

"Baby?" Will repeated, just beginning to really talk and understand words at his young age. Again, laughter filled the air, Anse passing the infant back to the proud father.

"Elizabeth Grace. Hell if you ain't damn near perfect," Chet said down to the baby as she stared back at him. "Never knew I could love somethin' so much just like that."

* * *

_Mate Creek_  
_Mingo County, West Virginia, 1874_

"Hey, I know you. Yer Savage Chet's kid, aintchya?"

Elizabeth Grace stared at the boy who'd so boldly approached her. He looked to be about Johnse's age maybe, which was twelve, quite tall compared to her eight year old self. "He ain't a savage," she meekly corrected him, though she herself had no idea who this boy was, nor if she should be speaking to him. But she could see her father and mother were busy, speaking with an older couple who she had never seen before over by the post office.

The boy just rolled his mossy eyes and ignored her protest, shrugging his shoulders instead of arguing with her. "What's yer name anyhow?"

"Elizabeth," she answered shyly, wondering why he had chosen to speak to her out of nowhere. From a young age, her mother had trained her to expect a life fully dedicated to a husband, and bearing him a family, so even at her age, she noticed boys. And this boy, with his shaggy chestnut colored hair and playful smile was noticeably something she would call cute, never out loud, but in her own mind. "And who are you?" she inquired back, feeling it was unfair that this kid seemed to know her but she still had no idea whom he was.

"Name's Calvin. That's my pap there, talkin' ta yers," he informed Elizabeth, pointing over her shoulder to where her parents, and apparently his stood, conversing.

"Looks like my Calvin's taken a likin' ta yer girl, Chet," Randall said slowly, watching as the children spoke to one another, then turning back to Chester, a man he considered a friend, despite the rocky relationship the McCoys now had with Devil Anse, Chet being practically kin to the Hatfield brothers.

Sawyers weren't Hatfields anyway.

"Girl already cares more fer boys than I'd like her to. Makes eyes at Ellison e'ry chance she gets. Don't encourage it, _please_," Chet expressed in a joking manner, though it was something he hated to admit was true. The girl was constantly surrounded by boys, and instead of wanting to do what they did, she was the type to instead want to possess their attention somehow. They all treated her quite fragilely most of the time, knowing they'd be punished for anything that involved her crying or getting hurt. On most occasions, she was assigned as a lookout for them while they did something bad, or left to entertain Cotton Top so he didn't get himself hurt when the boys would roughhouse. And that was just fine by her because she wasn't one to rip her dresses romping around anyway; she was just happy to be accepted by them, though all the adults, and maybe even Libby herself, could tell the boys weren't usually enthusiastic about having to drag her along with them.

But regardless, at the tender age of eight, she had already figured out how to play to their sympathies, Chet having seen her purposely trip over her own skirts and twist her ankle, feigning accidents to get the attention of the boys when she felt she was being forgotten about. And like suckers, each Hatfield boy, or cousin, or friend, would come rushing over to check on her and make sure she was okay.

It worked without fail, each and every time, especially on Johnse, William and Robert E.

"Well, I will throw any of my sons' names in the hat, though I'm sure there will be a long line of suitors for that one once the time is right. I won't envy you." A rare smile spread over Randall's lips, though it wasn't exceptionally wide, and Chet rubbed his face, realizing the truth in his words. She would be just like her mother.

"Now, now. She's just a baby still! You can't possibly even be thinking of marrying her off yet!" Lucy insisted, having been unable to reprise her pregnancy since the birth of her daughter. This made it hard to let go, her youth precious and possibly singular in her lifetime.

"Of course not, Miss Lucy," Randall assured her, though he wasn't entirely false with his offer. He and Sally had been promised to one another, so it was nothing he hadn't considered for his own children.

Tolbert, Calvin, Pharmer or Bud would be a suitable match for his friend's only daughter, the clear rose among a garden of weeds. Her mother was known for her loveliness, and the child was no different, even young.

"Your family is beautiful, Lucy," Sally offered the younger woman happily, having known of her struggle to birth a live child, and the pride the parents took in their only daughter.

A wagon rattling down the dirt road being led by trotting horses was what ended their conversation, and the driver was noticeably Devil Anse himself, even from this distance, Levicy up front beside him.

"Calvin!" Randall quickly called to his son, distracting him from his first, but certainly not last, encounter with Elizabeth Sawyer, and always one to obey, he swiftly gave her a tip of his hat and regretful smile before immediately rushing over to his parents, who had bid farewell to Chet and Lucy and were heading towards their own wagon to leave. Though Chet said nothing, he knew it was undoubtedly due to the arrival of Devil Anse. He could sense a growing tension between the two men, one ha had yet to address, with either party, though he was pretty certain it pertained to the war. War changed men, and in Randall's case, it was apparent the change had made him a much angrier soul.

It might've been the first time Elizabeth Sawyer had ever noticed, what would be known, as a great feud between the Hatfields and the McCoys.

The boys jumped to the dirt from the back of the wagon right near her, William's gaze fixed on her, his boots creating a cloud of dust. "That McCoy kid botherin' ya, Lib?" he questioned, hands on his hips, his brand new pistol tucked into the holster at his side, proudly displayed. He'd been given it by hid father, Johnse much the same, though he was cross that he'd only just been given his own pistol by his father this year as well, and he was a whole two years older than Will.

Libby was confused, her face scrunched in question as to why that would be Will's first assumption. "No. We was just talkin'."

His brow rose and he looked over at his older brother knowingly, Johnse shaking his head before shrugging his shoulders and taking off after Robert E, who'd disappeared around the other side of the wagon.

Will refocused his attention on her. Letting his arms fall to his sides and once again, shaking his head. "Don't get to keen on McCoy's bein' friendly with ya Libby. Ol' Rand'll likes Hatfields less an' less e'ryday, my pap says."

"But I ain't Hatfield," Libby corrected him, not understanding his point. People not liking others for their name wasn't a totally unheard of thing, though Libby found it a bit silly.

"Sawyer's practically Hatfield. Y'know that," he countered matter-of-factly, with a roll of his eyes. The Sawyers were as close to kin as any of Devil Anse's actual blood, ever present, as long as any of the Hatfield boys could remember. Libby was like their sister, and always had been, and Chet was as much their uncle as their actual relations. And Lucy, well, she had been the first crush of every Hatfield boy in the house in their younger years, still fair as ever, even with the age and stresses of the war and motherhood.

Will smirked at Libby, seeing a swell of pride suddenly rise in Libby's natural glow. She'd always wanted to be a Hatfield.

* * *

_Sawyer Cabin  
Logan, West Virginia,1976_

"Why don't we jus' go an' ask Libby ta read it?" Johnse persisted, as if it were clear as day.

"Tellin' me ya wanna go ask a girl, 'specially _that_ girl, ta read ta us like she's our mama?" Will questioned, pulling a uninterested face at his elder brother.

"Well, who else're we gonna ask, _Mama_? Ya know she already don't want us knowin' bout them bandits," Johnse pointed out, already aware that there was no chance Levicy Hatfield would be filling her sons' heads with any of those outlaw ideas, and she was the only other person they knew could read besides their pap, and there was even less of a chance he'd entertain them with the tales of Billy the Kid and Jesse James. "Mama already thinks I's too... _impressionable_, whatever that means," Johnse reminded his younger brother.

Libby wasn't so bad, Will just thought she was a priss, always causing a fuss if he or Johnse played too rough with her and got her dress dirty or something along those lines. She was always crying over spilt milk, and he hated when she acted like that, a spoilt little apple of her mama's eye, and her father's perfect little princess. It was enough to make him sick the way she was doted on. But she did have an education from her mama, who came from lots of money, and Will supposed his brother was right. She was likely their only hope in finding out the details in the newspaper articles.

"_Fine_," Will reluctantly agreed before he snatched the paper from his brother and slid off the lumber pile he'd perched on, then set off full speed towards the Sawyer household, knowing though Johnse could take longer strides, Will could outrun him any day.

Both winded, and being rowdy as they approached the area where the Sawyers lived, on land that had been given to the Hatfield timber business by Chet as an investment. Lucy Sawyer stood on the porch, having heard the two boys running up the dirt drive, hooting and hollering at one another. But the second they'd noticed Libby's mother waiting for them with a raised brow of curiosity and her arms crossed over her chest, they quickly put their straight faces on and slowed their pace. "Afternoon A'nt Lucy. Libby wouldn't be 'round, would she?" Johnse inquired, politely removing his hat from his head.

"Hello Johnse. William. I believe my daughter likely heard you boys running up the way making a scene. If I know my daughter, I'd guess her face is pressed right up against the window behind me." Peering over her shoulder, the boys following her lead, they saw it was true. Libby was watching through the front window, appearing startled when she'd been caught, instantly disappearing from their view.

Rolling her eyes, Lucy opened the front door and called inside. "Elizabeth! Johnse and William are here calling on you!" she humored her child as to not embarrass her too badly. The young girl hated being caught showing any interest in the Hatfield boys now she was a bit older, aware that they found her pesky most of the time. And in order to spite them, she paid them as little mind as she could, staying with her mother of theirs in the kitchen, learning to sew and weave or cook another meal. Every once in a while it would work, and her disinterest would cause them to feel obligated to ask her to do something with them. But it wasn't every day they came running up the drive to see her like there was a fire to be put out.

In an instant, Libby reappeared in the doorway, looking rather confused. The Hatfields must've had something really exciting going on if they were calling on her like this. They were usually finding some way to ditch her instead of see her.

"If you kids go anywhere, you better be home by supper time, you hear me Elizabeth Grace?" Lucy reinforced before turning to go back inside. The boys snickered at the stern warning, though they knew they were expected home under similar pretences.

"Mama!" she whined, concluding her mother must embarrass her intentionally. Lucy just dismissively waved her hand in her daughter's direction, sending her off to play before closing the door on the children and returning to the chicken and dumplings she was preparing.

Turning her attention back to the boys, Libby anticipated what they wanted from her so badly they'd come running like wild men, kicking up dust behind them. The Hatfield cabin was quite a ways away from her own home on foot, though the properties had nothing between them but timber to be harvested and cornfields.

"Yes?" she offered, spying the folded up newspaper in Will's hand. She was denied the privilege of reading the paper, though she was already quite literate, having a library of books to herself, constantly showered with gifts on holidays and special occasions. Her father insisted she was much too young to be worried about the sorts of things they wrote about in the paper though, she assumed he meant the stories of the bandits and the aftermath of the war, or just the plain old murders. Not to mention the local buzz that turned up here and there when Hatfields and McCoys got into tousles in the streets or taverns.

"Not here," Will insisted, being the most sensible of them all, not wanting to be caught.

Glancing back to make sure her mother wasn't eavesdropping, Libby turned and followed them quite some way down the drive, before moving toward the direction of the Hatfield home. When they finally stopped near the swimming hole, which sat somewhere between both their homes, Will thrust the paper in her direction, pointing to the words beneath the picture of the notorious Jesse James on the front page. "What's it say 'bout him, huh?"

Taking the wrinkled and yellowed pages in both hands, she held it out before her, eyes scanning over the letters before she read them aloud. The shock of the story made her eyes widen, and also made her realize why her father didn't want her reading the newspapers.

"Well? C'mon!" Johnse urged her, both boys eagerly awaiting her dictation.

"It says '_James-Younger Gang Rob Bank in Northfield, Minnesota. On September seventh, The James-Younger Gang, led by Jesse and Frank James, attempted a robbery of the First National Bank of Northfield in Minnesota. Though they were denied access to the safe, two victims were killed in the midst of the gang's retreat. Both Frank and Jesse James escaped capture. Proclamation by the Governor: Wanted, five hundred dollar reward for the arrest and conviction of the James brothers.'_"

Once again, Libby read the article, this time silently, wanting to be sure she hadn't made a mistake, still disbelieving such things could be going on. But if it were in the paper, it must be true. "I been hearin' lotsa people talkin' bout them," she commented, having heard the whispers when she was at church or about the town with her parents on errands. The young boys were especially interested, seeing these bandits as post-war heroes of the frontier.

"Course ya have. 's all anyone's tlakin' 'bout," Will stated obviously, taking the paper back. Another robbery was quite exciting, only building the reputation of the James brothers.

"Can ya imagine… Pa wants me ta be a workin' man. Shoot, I might just start robbin' trains 'nstead. Seems a helluva lot easier than choppin' wood forever," Johnse daydreamed.

"Cause yer a lazy jackass," Will snarked back to his brother, earning a giggle from Libby. Their bantering was always amusing, especially because it was generally Will getting the better of Johnse, and not the older brother teasing the younger as was usual within families.

Johnse shot her a sour look, Will instead pleased he'd amused her. "Proper ladies ain't s'posed ta find that sorta cussin' funny, y'know _Elizabeth_," Johnse reminded harshly. Libby was a proper little thing, much like her mother, seemingly suited better for the city than the hills of West Virginia, but Lucy Barrow had not prepared herself to fall in love with the rough and rugged, backwood, gun-slinging, Savage Chet Sawyer when she was sixteen, either.

"Yer the one cursin', so it's _you_ who ain't proper, _Johnson_. An' if I told yer mama, she'd tan yer hide," Libby spit back snidely, sticking her nose up in the air at Johnse. That's where it usually was, unless it was buried in books that weren't even about real things, which William just thought was plain stupid. The only use he saw in being book trained was to keep up to date on his favorite American heroes; Jesse James, Billy the Kid, Black Bart. _They_ were real, and he and his brother, just like every other young man who didn't live under a rock, dreamed of being outlaws, just like them someday.

"Would ya'll cut it out?" Anythin' else good in there, Lib?" Will persisted, still interested in the latest news. He didn't care for the politics and junk, just the crimes, especially the ones committed by the notorious ones.

Because it had been William who'd asked, Libby turned through the few pages of the paper and came across a continuation of the proclamation for the capture of both James brothers and the rest of his gang, one by one. She read each one aloud to the boys, what they were accused of, and how much they were worth.

"These men all got some prices on their heads," Libby observed, shaking her head disapprovingly, before her eyes stopped reading the words and looking over the pictures, then flicked up to William. "The Bandit Queen, Belle Starr? Ain't that a girl?" Libby was completely dumbfounded, the idea of a woman behaving the way these men did not even a fathomable idea until now.

"Sure is, Lib. See? You can be our very own Belle Starr someday when we's makin' every headline in these here United States," the younger Hatfield boy persuaded her. He wanted to get her on their side, have her take an interest in it too, so she'd be more willing to entertain their indulgence.

"An' I'll be Jesse, a'course," Johnse informed them both, but the two sets of eyes of his present company shifted back and forth between one another, neither one of them buying Johnse's suggestion.

"If anyone's Jesse James, it's me, Johns, hate ta tell you," Again, Will had succeeded in making Libby laugh, once more pleasing himself. "Who'd you say'd be the leader, huh Lib?" Will questioned the girl, for confirmation, though he already knew she was on his side. She was always on his side. If Will had been old enough to notice these sorts of things, he'd realize she had quite an infatuation with him.

"Sorry, Johnse," she shrugged, eyes returning to the pages. "She must've done some real bad stuff. They's payin' near eight hundred dollars for her capture."

Peeling herself from her sudden intense interest in these criminals, she handed the paper over to Will, who looked over the different wanted posts as though he was literate.

"Wouldn't it be easier fer me ta just teach ya'll ta read?" Libby questioned, knowing William was struggling with all but the numbers, likely, and the names he already knew by heart.

"Then Will'd have no excuse ta come an' see ya," Johnse taunted out of nowhere, to which Will reacted by elbowing him hard in the ribcage, the older boy wheezing with the sharp contact.

"Shut up, ya idiot!" Will hissed at his brother before looking back to Libby. "Ya'd truly teach me?" he questioned her, completely ignoring how his brother had embarrassed him. It was a constantly joked about subject, how one day Will would marry little Libby, and Will tried his best to prove the theory wrong but he couldn't deny the soft spot he seemed to have for her, and somehow, he always just ended up giving them more reason to assure him that was his future.

"It ain't hard, Will, an' yer smart," she encouraged with a smile, eyes peering at him through long lashes, her hands clasped behind her back.

It might've been the first time William Hatfield ever noticed, Libby Sawyer was quite pretty.

* * *

**PLEASE DON'T FORGET TO LEAVE A REVIEW!**


	2. Part II

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the _Hatfields and McCoys_ series. Though historical accuracy may appear, this is a work of pure fiction. I do not claim any connection to the real William 'Cap' Hatfield, or any other historical people mentioned in this story.

**A/N:** Thanks to everyone who reviewed! Please keep them coming. Every one counts in a small fandom like this!

* * *

**Almost Heaven, West Virginia  
Part II**

* * *

_Sawyer Cabin _  
_Logan, West Virginia, 1878_

It was cold in February, far colder than Libby liked it to get. And tomorrow, she would be on the road, a long stagecoach ride to Virginia where they would then board a train that would take them all the way up the coast to Boston. Chet wasn't thrilled about the journey, as he would be staying behind to continue his work with Anse and the timber, but they two women in his life had him wrapped around his finger, and Lucy insisted Libby meet her Great Aunt Victoria before she passed, as the woman was coming along in age at seventy-seven years old.

Today was William's birthday, his fourteenth to be exact, and because it was in a cold month, was usually celebrated alongside a party for Johnse as well in the warmer months, since he too was a winter baby. But Levicy always made a fuss of dinner on the boys' birthdays since it was too cold to throw a big gathering outside, inviting close family and friends to the Hatfield cabin and passing out bowls of her famous stew, and biscuits covered in her prized elderberry preserves. Corn from the harvest was grilled and a pig was roasting on a spat outside, tended to carefully by Anse, Jim and Lias, who could be heard bantering about how to get the most succulent flavors into the meat.

Libby was close to the fire, holding her stew on her lap and eating it slowly, enjoying all the warmth both the food and hearth provided.

"Stew's great Mama!" Will called over his shoulder at the woman in the kitchen, the Hatfield boy in a bright mood, as he plopped down beside Libby near the flames, using some bread her mother had brought to spoon the soup into his mouth.

"Best there is, I reckon," Libby agreed before taking a sip of her tea and imitating him, only being much neater about it.

"Heard yer pap say you was leavin' for yer A'nt's t'morrow," he mentioned casually. Will was about as fond of the idea as Savage Chet was though, finding that he'd become rather used to having Libby around all the time, and she'd been trying to teach him to write better since he wasn't very good at it, though she'd already helped him to learn his letters and how to read words. He wasn't the best yet, but he was working at it, slowly but surely. But coming into manhood left him with more and more distractions in life. So it was a slow process. He hadn't needed her to read a newspaper article to him in the past five months, though he'd gone to her anyway with them, him and Johnse and even Robert E now too, all still fascinated by the tales of the growing population of American outlaws. Even Skunkhair liked to listen every so often if he was around, being illiterate himself, though he felt foolish having to listen to a little girl read to him.

"Yeah. I ain't lookin' forward ta that coach ride. It's gonna be colder than the top 'a the Appalachians!" The truth was, Libby was excited to go on a trip with just her mother to a place she'd never been. But she would miss her friends, because by the time she got back, spring would be in the air and that was quite a long time to someone her age.

Giving her a half-hearted smile, Will shrugged a shoulder. "Nah, I think ya'll are gonna be just fine. Shoot, ya get ta go on a train an' everythin' Jus' don't get robbed." Fate would have a funny way of making them regret their laughter at William's words.

A silence fell between them, but only momentarily so they could eat more, then Libby's eyes brightened and she put her bowl on the floor for a brief second before she reached around to her other side. "Here, this is yours," Libby said happily to Will as she handed him a leather bound book tied with a white ribbon he recognized as being the kind she used to pull her hair back.

Smiling, and a bit surprised, Will took the birthday gift gratefully. Her parents had already given him something, so he wasn't expecting Libby to have something of her own for him. Though he had to say, he was a little less surprised when he saw it was a book. Untying the ribbon, Will opened the cover to the first printed page. "_The Adventures 'a Tom Sawyer _by Mark Twain? What's this?" he questioned, only missing a beat at the long word. Sure, Libby had helped him read, but it had all been newspapers until now. He'd certainly never tackled a book before, and this one had quite a few pages, and no pictures to boot.

"It's about a boy who lives on the Mississippi, an' his friend, an' the trouble they get in with this murderer." Libby's eyes would fill with excitement whenever someone asked her about a book she liked, and Will could tell this book had been previously owned, presumably by her. But she reined in her enthusiasm, not wanting to give the story away, because she knew he'd never read it if she spoilt the ending for him. He reminded her of that every time she'd talk about a book to him, saying eh wouldn't read it because she already told him the whole story. "Can't ya jus' read it? I know ya ain't much fer books about fake people, but since ya can read now…" she trailed off, though she wanted to just threaten to smack him with t if he didn't.

"Sounds like some made up junk _you_ like ta read," he accused, looking skeptically through the chapters, reaffirming his initial suspicions that there were no pictures..

"I think you'll like it though Will. An' it's my new favorite. I read it seven times already. Just give it a try, would ya? For me? Just this once? An' I won't ever ask you fer nothin' again," she wore, to which William snorted disbelievingly.

"C'mon now, we both know _that's_ a lie," he reminded her. But it was his birthday, and it had been a good birthday for him, so he was feeling generous today. "Only fer you, Libby girl. I'll read yer stinkin' book." Again, he flipped through the pages, this time a dreadful mindset taking over, regretting the promise he'd just made when he saw how many words were printed on these pages. But the back page, that was ceremoniously blank, caught his eyes just before he closed the book, quickly catching it and reopening it to the last page.

"Hey, did you write in here?" he questioned her, though he knew it was her handwriting and could see her signature at the bottom. Her handwriting was very neat and feminine, curvy and slightly slanted. The words, _'I'll miss you the most,'_ were neatly written in letters Will could read across the slightly frayed page, and Will smiled a genuine smile as he read the words, knowing he really would miss her when it came down to it these next few months while she was gone.

Blushing a little and returning to her stew, Libby avoided William's eyes beneath her cover of her long lashes, though she couldn't help but peek back at him a few times.

Will read the words again, noticing she had drawn a heart near her name at the bottom. It was only within the last year that he had started to notice that Libby fancied him, his uncle and brothers teasing him about it time and time again. "Shoot Lib, you tryin' ta trick me inta missin' ya?" he joked, throwing an arm over her shoulder and giving her a squeeze. "Thanks. An', I'll read it by the time yer back. Promise."

"I'm gonna remember that promise, so ya better William," she assured him, before they were called to the table for the ham and corn.

* * *

_Hatfield Cabin _  
_Logan, West Virginia, 1878_

It was well into a chilly, mid April evening when a frantic knocking echoed through the otherwise quiet home of Devil Anse Hatfield. The children had all turned in, early to hide from the cold under the blankets, even Johnse and Will who fought to stay up as late as they were permitted to usually.

But being older and more aware than their other siblings, the two young men both stirred in their sleep at the sound of unexpected visitors. It was the familiar, hurried voice of Chet Sawyer is what made the two boys look at each other in the darkness and rise to find out what the fuss was all about though.

"What's goin' on Pa?" Johnse asked sleepily, though he looked as though he was forcing himself to be aware. There was a thick tension in the air that both boys immediately sensed, he panic-stricken expression on Chet's face a dead giveaway that something was horribly, horribly wrong.

Devil Anse turned to his two sons, revealing his uncharacteristically worried eyes, and it jolted the two of them awake immediately. Savage Chet, a tall, burly man who was near, if not just as, intimidating as their own father looked like a broken shell of what they all new him to be, as if his life had shattered completely. Levicy sobbed in the corner, her back to her sons still, pressing a handkerchief to her mouth to cover her cries, for Chet had brought grave news with him.

"Go on an' get dressed boys. A tragedy's happened," Devil Anse informed his two eldest. They were well old enough to be helping in a search, especially around these parts. He knew his boys wouldn't be able to get lost in these hills if they tried, night or day, and with Johnse's quick reflexes and Will's dead aim with his rifle, Anse felt comfortable allowing them out on their own even at this hour.

Chet lost his composure as the boys did as they were told without question, though they were anxious for specific details, running to dress quickly, adding extra layers to tolerate the cold air.

"We're gonna find yer girl Chet." Anse attempted to comfort his friend, pulling his own coat and boots on. Both Anse and Chet had made some enemies in their lifetimes, and there was always the worry of vigilantes and plain old stagecoach robbers. But no one could hate the man enough to do this to him.

And his _poor_ family.

Anse had found out this much; Lucy and Libby Sawyer were expected to return hours ago, and now the cause of their delay had been discovered, previously assumed to be maybe some snow out by the mountains postponing their train.

It was a gruesome scene.

The stagecoach driver, and Lucy's two escorts were both dead, along with Chet's wife herself. The carriage had been raided and the horses stolen, Lucy stripped of her clothes and jewelry, likely violated, though no one had asked. And Chet's young daughter, the only child they'd ever been able to have, was missing from the scene of the massacre.

"What went on?" Johnse demanded once again, pulling one of his boots on as he hobbled back into the room, his brother right behind him, buttoning his jacket. The younger kids were now up, Robert E behind his brothers, knowing he wouldn't be allowed to go, but wanting to know what had happened no less. Levicy hushed him and Nancy, who hadn't come out, but could be heard awake, and sent them both back to bed, telling them it wasn't anything for their ears to be hearing.

Both Will and Johnse felt their stomachs sink like stones.

Devil Anse looked at his two sons. "Boys… they found Lucy Sawyer's body off the road 'bout twelve miles east. Her driver. Two escorts too. Whole coach's been pilfered through." Johnse looked horrified, and William thought he might be sick at the idea. Anse didn't dare elaborate, on the circumstance's of Lucy's murder, sparing his young sons the cold reality of it, but there was one detail he dreaded telling them even more.

"An' what about Libby?" Will hesitated before he asked, afraid of the answer.

"Yer Uncle Wall come across 'em headin' this way. Says… says there's still some snow near the trails an' he saw the tracks goin' off the road. Found the coach then, an' the blood—," Chet choked on a sob, a sight both boys were scared o see, since they had never seen this particular man in such a weak state of being. "B-but he says Libby ran. Tracked her ta a swamp, but lost the trail, so he come ta fetch me. He's down gettin' yer Uncle Jim and Lias now."

Both Johnse and Will looked at one another, white as ghosts. They had never known anyone their age who'd died before, not good like they'd known Libby. It seemed Chet didn't even want to weigh that option though. "M-my baby girl… she's somewhere out there. Alone. Scared. Lost. She ain't got much woods sense. Wall said, ain't no tracks folloin' her but his own." So she hadn't been chased at least, somehow escaping the criminals, because it was doubtful they'd just let her run. Somehow, relief was able to wash over both Hatfield boys hearing this, even though that meant they still needed to rake these hills to try and find her. She'd likely freeze overnight. April was still a frigid month once the sun went down at night, and they'd had fresh snow not even three days ago.

That confirmation was enough for Devil Anse to put a search together. First, he ordered his sons to go and alert Ellison and while he and Chet found a few others, and they'd cover the area in a short enough amount of time. If she was alive, they were bound to come across her by sunrise.

Everyone prayed Wall was right, and she'd gotten away without being tailed, she most likely found a place to hide somewhere. He doubted a little girl like that would do much wandering around, especially knowing her. Savage Chet didn't live up to that name when it came to his daughter; spoilt that girl rotten, and lord knows she was never brought out hunting or fishing, or even riding, scared to get on the animals ever since Johnse's old pony had dumped her when she was just a wee thing. She was a proper thing, educated by her similar mother, taught to play piano and fiddle, able to sew and cook. But survive out in the wild? That wasn't likely. All they could hope is that the attackers hadn't caught her at all, and she'd found somewhere to hide, staying put and waiting on them, preferably, close by a road. The girl had brains, so it would be possible she'd realize someone would come looking for her soon enough. "Boys, I want you out by the north hills; less ground ta cover there. Tell Ellison he's ta go east of ya, an' I'll send Lias an' a few others ta him. We meet down near the ol' fishin' spot in three hours. Keep yer time, an' boys." Anse looked seriously into his sons' eyes, William receiving the prolonged stare. "Keep yer guns close."

The two boys immediately left the house, both stunned by this information, not even discussing it as they saddled their horses faster than they ever had before and burst out of the barn into the frosty, moonlit night.

At least there was a chance she wasn't dead. If Uncle Wall had said no one followed her, then no one had followed her. But he'd lost her trail at the swamp Johnse and Will caught frogs at in the summer, and they both knew the girl couldn't swim to save her life. It wasn't so deep in most spots, but it _was_ cold, and if she were wet, she'd be on her way to hypothermia.

William had a lump in his throat, riding in silence other than the noise he made to encourage his horse to pick up speed as he raced down the dirt road that led to Ellison Hatfield's home. All Will could remember was that one of the last things he'd said to her had been a joke about not getting robbed on the train. He had only said it because they liked to read about the train robbers so much. He certainly hadn't _meant_ it. Somehow, he felt he'd jinxed her. It might've never happened if he hadn't tempted fate in the first place, and now Libby's mama was dead, and she was nowhere to be found.

The sound of the horses hooves furiously crashing into the dirt as they came up to their uncle's house must've alerted Ellison to their presence, because he was already waiting for him at the door, looking groggy and confused. "Uncle Ellison! Libby Sawyer's gone missin'. Uncle Wall found her mama dead. Some robbers done it," Will summarized, wanting to get out to look for her as fast as he could.

The shock was apparent with Ellison's changed expression. "Sonovabitch," he hissed, disbelieving of this tragic news. What was the world coming to? A woman and child couldn't even travel safely anymore without stagecoach thugs attacking them?

"Libby's gone missin'?" Cotton Top questioned fearfully from the doorway, apparently awake due to the commotion, hearing what happened. Elizabeth was always of a mature nature for her age, and Cotton tended to be found following her around on occasions where they were in each other's presence. She was kind to him, and never lost her temper, or teased him like so many others, even his kin. And she certainly never called him mush-head, the way all the other kids did.

"We're gon' find her Cotton," Will confidently assured him, and Ellison looked to Anse's middle son with slight hesitation, the promise of a potentially unlikely outcome making him nervous. That was a little girl to be out on her own like that, in this cold especially.

"Go on inside Cotton. I'll be home." Sadly, Cotton obeyed, going back inside the house while he sobbed quietly and Ellison followed to get his boots and jacket, trying to comfort his son with a strong hand on his shoulder, while William swung his horse around, clicking with his mouth for his horse to take off and run. "Pap says go east 'a the hills near Lincoln an' meet up at the fishin' spot in three hours!" Will couldn't waste another second. Inside, he was panicking, and had been since the moment he'd found out what was happening. He needed to find her, and he needed to do it immediately.

As Will left his brother in the dust to wait for Ellison, he went through every worst case scenario he could in his mind, to prepare himself. There were a lot of horrible things that could happen out here. For one, whoever got her mama might've caught up to her too. A bear, or a cougar might've torn her up. Could've curled up in a foxhole and froze to death already. He really hoped she hadn't stumbled upon any McCoys; things had only been getting worse with those hillbillies. And there were a few of Ol' Rand'll's boys he most definitely could imagine treating Libby less than respectfully.

He would ride a half-mile before he'd stop and listen, hollering her name out, before continuing on and doing the same thing once again. Luckily, the moon was waxing, and nearly full, illuminating the sky and making the task of seeing a bit easier. Johnse was able to catch up to him about an hour into searching,

By the time it was approaching three hours, it had actually felt as though they'd been out all night looking. The boys were cold, and the horses were tired. Their eyelids were heavy, and they craved the feeling of their warm beds and the fireside.

"We been out here near three hours now. She ain't here," Johnse huffed exasperated, tired and grouchy from being woken up from his deep sleep, then having to rush out to help find the Sawyer girl.

"So what, you wanna jus' leave her out here? _Libby_?" Will asked Johnse incredulously. The younger boy didn't think he'd get a minute of sleep knowing she was maybe out here waiting for someone to find her, vulnerable to all kinds of things, people and animals alike. His brother looked ashamed when it was brought to his attention like that.

Sighing, Johnse reluctantly headed down the left side of the fork, calling out to Libby. William shook his head at his older brother and went the opposite way riding until he couldn't hear his Johnse's calls anymore. If he gave up now, she was dead, and that'd be that. He was afraid to give up, because then it was over.

"Libby!" he yelled as loud as he could, then waited, listening to the sound of his own voice echoing off the hilltops. He could see his breath in the air as his eyes scanned open valley to his right, watching for any sign of life, but found none.

He stopped once he'd reached near the end of that road. Following the bend would take him over one of the tallest hills, and he sure hoped she hadn't gone that far. Wasn't nothing up there but wildcats, wolves, and the sorts of people that caused this problem in the first place. She _was_ as good as dead if that's where she'd gone.

William squinted in the darkness, looking around. There was no movement other than the bitter breeze. He just sat, surveying, and waiting, and hoping for a sign of life. "Libby!" he hollered out loudly once again.

But it wasn't life that had caught his eyes.

Something was catching the moonlight, and Will quickly pulled his horse backwards, moving past again to catch the right light once more, certain of what he'd seen when the glimmer shone in the distance for the second time.

"Hya!" Will commanded his horse, kicking the quick filly and sending her in the direction he'd noticed the gleaming light.

It could've been nothing. But something told him to go check, just in case. If they didn't find her tonight, there wasn't going to be much hope for her survival. And Savage Chet hadn't looked like he could take the news of his daughter being lost after his wife had already been robbed, raped and murdered in cold blood.

Dismounting his horse, Will made his way over to a small grove of trees, where he'd seen the glittering, and when he got close, the moon caught it right again, revealing the exact location of the source. Rushing over to it, Will best down in the half-melted snow, now icy in the night air, and picked up a ring.

A ring he'd most definitely seen before.

It was a fine piece of jewelry, and William held it up in the moonlight, just to be sure he wasn't mistaken. But he wasn't. It was Miss Lucy's ring, her family ring that had reluctantly been given to Chet when he asked for her hand in marriage by Lucy's mother.

Shooting back up to his feet and pocketing the jewelry, Will spun around in all directions looking before he shouted out her name once again. "Libby!"

This time though, when he listened, he heard something other than the sound of his own voice reverberating off the hilly peaks. A whimper, and the chattering of teeth.

The Hatfield boy had spied a foxhole before he'd found the ring's location, but not even thought to check it. Not until now, realizing that is where the sound was coming from.

He went to the head of the burrow and looked inside, unable to see much even with the help of the bright moon. "Lib? Libby? You in there?" William suddenly realized, if it _was_ her in there, after the state her mother had apparently been found in, the girl must be scared out of her mind. " 'S me. Will Hatfield," he tried adding to lure her out. It had been a few months since he'd seen her, but he was sure they were still friends.

To his relief, he was met with a promising reply. "William?" she whimpered out from inside the abandoned hole. "You found me?"

He couldn't fight the triumphant and relieved smile that pulled across his lips when he heard her ridiculous question. "Yeah, Lib! C'mon! Johnse's down the other way!" He was pretty ecstatic he'd found her, and on his own too. His Pa would be proud, and he was eager to get her out of here and back home. "Shoot, e'eryone's out lookin' for ya. You all right? What happened? How'd you get this far out here anyhow?" If she had run, she'd run far and long to be this far from where the looted carriage she'd been traveling in had been found.

But his questions were silenced as he watched her emerge from the hideout, offering his hand when she was within reach and pulling her the rest of the way out. She was covered in mud and wetness it looked like, and her hand was cold as ice. Ripping his jacket off, he pulled it around her tightly, knowing he could bear the cold long enough to get her to his mom and by a warm fire. He could send Johnse to alert the others and meet by the fishing hole.

Most startling for him though was the look of pure horror fading away to absolute relief as she broke down, launching herself forward and into him with all the strength she had left, arms encircling his neck so tightly he had to bend his knees a little to match her height so he wouldn't fall over. But once he'd steadied his footing, he'd tightly wrapped his arms around her comfortingly, for both her and himself, and made sure it was strong. The fear on her face, haunting her eyes, was enough to make him sick to his stomach. And how they had changed to so thankful and relieved when she'd actually set eyes on him and seen it wasn't just her imagination, or worse, the escaped attackers.

But the moment she'd crawled out and collapsed into him, was the moment he knew she certainly was aware that her mother was dead.

"C'mon. Your Pap's out with mine and my uncles. He's all torn up. We gotta get Johnse first. I'll send him ta find them an' I'll take ya back ta my mama." William slowly let her go and led her to his horse, giving her a leg up quickly before he got on behind her, taking the reins in his hand and galloping off in the direction Johnse had gone, calling out to his brother as he did.

* * *

**PLEASE DON'T FORGET TO LEAVE A REVIEW!**


	3. Part III

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the _Hatfields and McCoys_ series. Though historical accuracy may appear, this is a work of pure fiction. I do not claim any connection to the real William 'Cap' Hatfield, or any other historical people mentioned in this story.

**A/N:** Sorry for the wait! I'm loving this story though, so here's the next chapter. Thanks to those who took the time to review!

* * *

**Almost Heaven, West Virginia  
Part III**

* * *

_Hatfield Cabin_  
_Logan, West Virginia, 1878_

When William had arrived back home with Libby on his horse, his mother was at the door waiting with a lantern in hand. She ushered him inside and sent Robert E, who hadn't been able to sleep with worry, to put Will's horse away and ushered both of the cold children inside.

Levicy had stopped immediately once the door closed behind her though, and held Libby out at arms length, seeing her son's coat hanging off of her filthy and damp clothes, before she pulled the girl to her and hugged her in a vice-like grip, closing her eyes to thank whoever had watched over her out there tonight and allowed her to return safely to them.

But Libby was noticeably shivering, and Levicy quickly rushed her into the bedroom she shared with her husband, helping Libby out of her ruined dress and into a warm set of Levicy's nightclothes, but not before she stuck Libby in a hot tub she'd been keeping warm with new water just in case Libby had come back in this condition. But almost as soon as the steam left the water, Libby had wanted to get right out, seeing as how her hair had been matted with mud and the bathwater was now clouded with it. The warmth had heated her up quickly, but once she was out of the water, she'd caught the chill again while drying off and putting the nightdress on.

Stopping before she set her up in front of the fire to warm herself, Levicy kept her in the bedroom with the door closed and crouched down, holding the girl's shoulders and looking her straight in the eye. She could see how what had happened had terrorized her, and was afraid of the answer to her inevitable question.

"Libby, those men who did this. They never touched you any, right?" Lucy had not been so lucky, according to Wall, and though Libby looked unharmed, Levicy needed to be sure, and hear it from the girl's mouth that none of those bandits had defiled her in any way.

"N-no ma'm. I—I ran off before they even s-seen me," she whispered weakly through chattering teeth and continuous weeping, a wave of relief washing over the matriarch of the Hatfield clan nevertheless.

Ushering Libby into the den where the fireplace was blazing, ready for her return just as everything else had been, some furs and quilts piled on the floor with a pallet for her. The kettle whistled and steamed, the water Levicy had out on to boil for tea while Libby had been washing.

Will had changed his clothes in record time, wrapped a quilt around himself, and sat near the fire, head hanging in thought as he waited for Libby to come out to her bed for the night. He couldn't stop thinking about how her mother was dead, just like that, murdered for no reason. He wanted to ask Libby all about it, but he knew it wasn't appropriate right now. It might never be.

"Wrap her up, would ya William?" Levicy asked, though it was not an arguable point. Immediately, he stood up and shook his hair from his eyes, trying to push away the thoughts of Lucy's bright light being put out like that, watching her daughter shuffle over to him in his mother's nightclothes, before she sat on the straw mattress and Will started to drape the furs around her legs and the quilts over her shoulders.

He stood behind her and just watched her for a minute, while his mother prepared tea for them. William couldn't remember being so scared in his life as he was when he thought he was going to have to go to the fishing hole without Libby. She looked so cold and scared, and just plain fragile, he was afraid to look away from her in case she broke the instant he did.

"Need anythin' Lib?" he asked, sure he'd get no sleep tonight despite her being safe and sound under his own father's roof.

Libby's big eyes, usually smooth and warm, like molten honey, were dark and mossy, fear-stricken, and brimming with tears. Will, again, found himself swallowing a lump in his throat. He hated seeing her like this. "Could ya just… sit here with me? Just for a bit?" she requested softly, and Will knew there was no denying her right now, so he nodded his head once and made himself comfortable beside her, startled when she fell into his side and whimpered quietly to herself, the Hatfield boy compelled to envelop her in his own quilt, pulling a few more over them both so they would get warm faster.

To him, she still felt cold, though the way she was crying it was difficult to tell what was from sobbing and what were shivers. "It's gonna be okay, Libby. We'll find whoever done it, an' they'll be sorry."

Levicy brought them the tea, brow rising at the sight of them, not going unnoticed by Will. He had the decency to look uncomfortable with the fact he was on, what was really, a bed with a girl right in front of his own mother. But Levicy said nothing, not wanting to upset Libby any further and knowing it was harmless for the time being, so William stayed put, rubbing circles on Libby's back comfortingly before she was finally able to control her emotions enough to sip her tea.

By the time Anse and Chet had returned, Johnse, Ellison and Wall in tow, Libby had finished her hot drink, now warmed up enough to stop shaking, and fallen asleep. And as for William, he hadn't been sure when he'd dozed off, but the sound of his father entering the house woke him, though he was too drowsy to stir immediately.

"She's here Chet! She's safe! Thank the Lord she's safe! But I'd let her get her sleep. It's a miracle she was even able to ta drift off," Levicy whispered to the men as they entered the cabin, quietly as they could.

Heaving a heavy sigh of alleviation, and nearly collapsing into a nearby chair with his head in his palms, Chet thanked the heavens. "Thank the Lord," he breathed out, looking like a different man they had never seen before, a broken man. But there was still a ray of hope for Chet now. He had his little girl, and that was what mattered most to him now that his wife was gone.

Will opened his eyes slowly, coming face to face with Libby, who had her fists balled near her mouth and looked to be in an uneasy rest, buried under most of the covers. He didn't even remember doing it he'd been so wiped out, but Will had been sure that they hadn't been beneath any of the quilts together before he'd lay down beside her and thrown his arm over her shoulder protectively, watching her until he'd passed out himself. And even though he knew it was something his father might not be too happy about when he arrived back, and maybe hers too, he couldn't leave her, and since his mother hadn't made him, he hadn't.

William listened for a while to what they said around the table, all warming their own blood with some tea, waiting to be growled at by his father for indecency, but it never came. It was only addressed once, and Savage Chet himself had turned a blind eye. "Don't disturb 'em Anse. They's fine. I ain't gonna take my eyes off her the resta the night anyhow."

Chet felt like at least a part of his world was restored, looking at the figure of his daughter, safe, and sound asleep beside Anse' second son. Johnse had told them they were lucky Will had found her when he had, because he didn't think his brother would ever go home without her. Chet was proud of Anse's boy, and grateful above all. William had always been good to his Elizabeth, and it made him feel secure, knowing he would watch her back when Chet wasn't around to someday.

Mortality was all too real, now that he had a late wife.

"Let 'em sleep Anse. Cause I don't think anya us'll be," Ellison reminded his brother, who looked displeased by the sight of his son laying in bed with the Sawyer girl, or any girl under his roof, despite the context of the situation. With Will being fourteen, and Libby on her way to twelve, Anse didn't see it as instilling proper values in the girl, allowing them to lie next to one another through the rest of the night, however, he said no more on it, realizing this was a dire circumstance and may have had something to do with William particularly being the one who had rescued her out there.

William was finally able to relax again, once they began instead discussing what steps to take next, how to find the culprits before the sheriff so they could settle things with trail justice, Lucy's arrangements, contacting her relations. Thankfully, neither of her parents were alive to hear of their daughter's gruesome passing, but she had five sisters, three brothers, and aunts, uncles and cousins back north. William began drifting off as he listened, and before he knew it, he was dead asleep, exhausted from everything that had happened that night.

But all the while, his hand stayed atop the pile of blankets Libby lay beneath, afraid if he weren't touching her, she'd disappear again.

* * *

_Sawyer Cabin_  
_Logan, West Virginia, 1878_

"Can't get her ta tell me nothin'. She don't wanna talk about it; don't even wanna _talk_! An'… alls I can do is hold her an' let her cry. Ain't no words 'a comfort that'll bring her mama back." Chet was flustered, trying to obtain Libby's side of the story so he could report it to Wall and the sheriff. But he'd had no luck, met only by tears in response to his questions, which pained him on a level he could not tolerate. It had been physically painful almost to have her so upset and not be able to soothe her in anyway. For the first time in his life, even when he'd been shot, he felt weak. Suddenly, he was left alone with a young girl he truthfully wasn't sure how to handle without his wife.

The day after Libby had been found had been chaotic, everyone seeming in a panic around her, afraid to initiate her tears, though it wasn't the presence of those she loved that caused the pain. Just the memories. She couldn't forget them.

And she didn't want to talk about them, at least not to her father. She couldn't bear to tell him about what had happened, what she'd heard as she fled, what she knew her mother's fate had been. She couldn't cause him that pain, a pain she'd rather be submitted to alone than burden him with.

"Maybe send one of the boys ta her. Might be more apt ta tell them," Levicy suggested, not really referring to Johnse or Robert E, but William. Anderson couldn't argue that point, because it had been apparent to everyone that Libby, at least before leaving for Boston, had always harbored feelings for William. If anyone could get her to talk, it was likely him.

"It's true she's always favored yer Will," Savage Chet agreed. He'd never been so overwhelmed in his life, not even at war. No, at least in a war, you were anticipating death; it was all around you. Lucy being killed had completely blindsided him though.

Earlier in the morning, he'd gone to the coroner, accompanied by Anse, to identify his wife's body and make arrangements, on no sleep save for the few moments he'd drifted off in his chair by the fire, when he'd been watching as his daughter tossed and turned, waking William a couple of times, the boy jolting as though he'd been scared, eyes shooting open and looking at Libby before he'd sigh and fall right back asleep, though she never seemed to wake herself. She just whimpered in her slumber instead, muttered words Chet couldn't comprehend and threw her head back and forth.

He didn't know what he was going to do with her.

Now, Chet was left to raise his daughter on his own, a time in her life when she would need a mother the most, as she came into womanhood. Besides, he knew nothing of raising a _girl_. A boy, he'd likely be able to handle, but females needed so much more emotional support than he thought he would be able to offer her. He was by no means a sensitive man, and he had already had his fill of a crying girl he couldn't figure out how to comfort and had begun numbing himself with whiskey on the way back from confirming the identity of Lucy. He loved his daughter with all his heart, and was great when she wanted to play or if she needed a discipline, and he knew she would marry well, being such a beauty, but Lucy had taken charge when it came to developing who Libby was, which is why she was a bit more delicate than the average woman who'd grown up in these hills. Then again, Lucy was a Yank, and a city girl at that, so it wasn't surprising. It was something Chet had found endearing, a woman who needed someone like him to protect and provide for her. What was he supposed to tell his daughter when she got her flow, if she already hadn't? He didn't even know! He didn't _want_ to know!

The thing he feared he could not handle were all things a mother should worry about, not a father. A father should worry about working hard, and feeding his family, defending his honor, and showing his boys how to become men.

Chet stopped his mind, no longer able to see his beautiful wife's face in his head, instead plagued by the image of her cold, lifeless body, face beaten and strangulation bruises clear across her neck. She had died being choked, the coroner had said, burns from the rope the raiders had used visible around her swan-like neck. And though he hadn't seen how cut up her body had been because of the sheet covering it, he could see the stains from her blood marking the white cloth, the sight making his stomach churn. It made him want to drink until he'd forgotten she was even dead, never mind washing away how she looked absent of life.

Anse puffed on his pipe, watching his friend's face contort as he dealt with the inner turmoil that had resulted form this ordeal. Chester was a man Anse had known his whole life, he'd known his wife as long as she'd been married and living in Logan, and Libby, since she'd been born. To see one missing and the two remaining so broken and destroyed was difficult. Anderson Hatfield knew he would be of help to them if they needed anything, but Chet was likely too proud to ever ask.

"Now Chet, you know Vicey'll take care 'a Libby. Don'tchyou worry about that none." Savage Chet gulped down another mouthful of whiskey and wheezed a cough once he'd swallowed it down. "An' you know my boys is always lookin' out for her."

"Course. You jus' bring her ta me on yer way ta work in the mornin's. Ya know I love her like my own," Levicy assured Chet as she readied some sandwiches in Chet's kitchen. The woman couldn't help but tear up when she passed the collection of hand painted fine china her friend had always prided, on display. It was wrong, she knew, but part of her wanted to shut it away somewhere they couldn't see it for the time being, until everyone had eased their pain. "Gotta give her time ta get right again. Both of ya gotta get right again." Levicy's hands stopped moving and she seemed to stare off, wondering how the world could be so cruel, to rip a mother away form her young child, before she shook her head lightly and returned to her meal preparation.

Chet already knew Anse would support him any way he could. They were like family all their lives. The fact of the matter was that he couldn't raise a girl on his own, not proper anyway, and work all the long hours he did at the timber yard. He not only worked out in the yard harvesting lumber, but he also helped with the books, so he found himself there nearly as often as Anse himself. "I'll find a way ta thank you someday, brother," Chet slurred slightly, both from sorrow and the liquor.

The almost first peaceful silence in the last day they had experienced washed over them before the door to Chet's home opened, the two eldest Hatfield boys entering unannounced, as they'd been outside helping with the animals that couldn't be ignored. On this sad day, Anse had shut down his timber operation out of respect for the late Lucy Sawyer, who had been a favorite of many Hatfield kin, both lovely to look at and maybe even overly sociable, a smile nearly always on her face and her laugh in the air. Today was a day for grieving, and on Sunday, they would bury Lucy.

"Speak 'a the devils," Anse teased his sons as they pulled their boots and hats off to come warm up by the fire, both unbuttoning their jackets as they approached. Libby had stayed locked away in her room, crying the whole cart ride to the Sawyer, Ellison, who had brought her and the Hatfield boys, had said. They had let Libby sleep long in the morning, so Chet and Anse had gone to see Lucy alone, and had Levicy bring the children once Libby had woken, Ellison having offered to take the younger ones to entertain Cotton earlier before Elizabeth had been conscious. .

This had been the first time Will had been conscious enough since last night to address Libby's father, or even his own. Hands deep in his coat pockets and hat abandoned, he walked up to Chet, who eyed him as though he were confused.

"Uncle Chet, sir, I ain't meant ta fall asleep with Libby. I just… I was just glad she was okay, is all. It won't never happen again, I'm sorry." Levicy had warned her son he might want to apologize in advance for his boldness by lying on a bed with a girl like that before his father called him out for it, because Anse would likely let it slide if Chet did, due to the circumstances. And Will was always very respectful of his father, and the rest of his elders at that.

"Yer a good boy Will. An' ya found my girl. Yer a goddamned hero, son. Ain't need no apology," Chet assured him, Will relishing in the compliment from one of the men he respected most. He was relieved, eyeing his own father then to see if he was forgiven, and apparently he was, Anse just nodding his head once and continuing to smoke.

A bit hesitantly, Will looked back to Savage Chet and pulled has hands from his jacket pockets. "I found this. Right near the foxhole Libby was hidin' in. Guessin' she must've dropped it. I think it was yer wife's." Offering the ring out to Chet, he dropped it into the palm of the man he'd called uncle his whole life.

Almost in a trance, Chet took the piece of jewelry and fingered it for a minute, holding it up to the firelight and letting it gleam in the dark house, remembering the day he'd put it on his bride's finger. She had been so beautiful, both of then young and happy.

He couldn't believe she was gone.

"Good boy," Chet nodded to him in thanks before dropping a heavy hand of admiration onto William's shoulder. He'd had no sons of his own, but if he did have one, he'd hope he'd be like Anse's second boy. Johnse was fine too, but much more of a fool. William had a head on his shoulders, and Chet couldn't lie and say he hadn't noticed the kid was almost a dead shot, more promise than Anse or himself ever showed at that age.

"It's gonna go ta Libby one day anyhow. You oughtta just keep it till yer marryin' age." Will looked horrified at older brother, wondering what would possess him to make a joke at a time like this. He was even more horrified when his father seemed to chuckle along with Johnse, disbelieving that his father would let Johns make such silly accusations when everyone was supposed to be mourning. But a ghost of a smile seemed to appear on Chet's own mouth, surely the first once since he'd come knocking on their door last night. And so William pushed his protest aside, just lightly elbowing his brother's ribs and giving him a sharp look instead or whopping him, ears turning pink with embarrassment.

"Welp, it'll be here waitin' on ya son," Chet joined in, to everyone's surprise, needing any sort of amusement to keep him out of the hole he wanted to bury himself in. Anse thought it was a good idea, making the man laugh, even just a little, a bit worried his friend was going to drink himself stupid.

"How's Libby anyways?" Will asked, though he was sure she was locked away in her room, crying still. She'd disappeared right in there the minute she'd arrived and not come out since. Johnse and Will had been tasked with taking care of Chet's hogs, cows, chickens and horses, because the man clearly was in no state to do it himself.

"I do believe you've just volunteered to go on in there an' find out." Will looked a bit startled at his father's command, but didn't protest. "An' William, try an' find out what happened. We ain't gonna catch the bastards that done this 'less someone can get it outta Libby." Will was to completely unsure of how to breech that topic without her wailing. Libby was prone to crying over little things. Something this big was bound to leave them all flooded in her tears.

"Okay… but whadda I say?" He really didn't want to upset her, and he saw no way of finding out what had happened exactly without doing so. He hated how she'd been crying last night, not because she was being whiney or spoilt, but because she was truly devastated. It was a heart wrenching sight and sound, and Will wasn't even sure he wanted to go in there and see her in the first place. How did you tell someone it would be okay when her mother had just been slaughtered on the road for some petty theft?

The look Savage Chet gave him though, a look of pleading almost, gave Will the boost of determination he needed to go and see Libby. Johnse, Anse and Chet all stared at him expectantly before he reluctantly made his way up the steps to her bedroom door.

He took a breath of confidence before he knocked shortly, met with no reply, as he'd somewhat expected. So he cracked the door open slowly, seeing her curled up against the headboard of her bed in her house dress, knees hugged to her chest and hair covering any part of her face that might have been exposed, head buried in her arms. Though she made no sound, he could see her body quivering with her sobs.

"Hey Libby," Will had said in greeting, so she knew he was there. He walked into the room slowly before shutting the door behind him. He hadn't been in her room in quite some time, not since they were really little. It was different than he remembered, more grown up. There were a couple of perfect looking dolls around, but other than that, it was mostly books, her hope chest, a hairbrush, two pretty perfume bottles half emptied, and other girly things he couldn't even identify. The room distinctly smelled feminine too, of lavender and spring mornings. Will liked it, he decided, especially since there was some scent that was distinctly Libby mixed in there. The boy was broken from his observations when she spoke though, taking him by surprise. He'd imagined having to pry

"It ain't right. Hearin' you all laughin' out there. How can anyone be laughin' right now?" she muttered into her arms, but after she'd spoken, she turned her head to look at him, tears stains streaming down from her reddened eyes. He hadn't seen her so unkempt in his life, well, except for maybe last night when he'd found her.

"Don't be like that Libby. Yer Pa's torn up enough, y'know. If he don't laugh, might drink himself ta death out there." The look on Libby's face made Will realize that was absolutely not the right thing to say, and he quickly went over to her before wrapping her in his arms. "I didn't mean that. I'm sorry," he quickly apologized. Talking about her father dying likely wasn't appropriate at the current time, even though Will hadn't really meant it that way.

He could tell his words had deeply hurt her because of how sensitive she was at the moment, so he comforted her by rubbing a circle on her back, much like he recalled his mother doing when he'd been sick. "I didn't mean it, y'know," he reassured her, feeling her swell up and begin sobbing against him.

Will thought hard about what to say next. She was already so upset, he didn't want to make it worse; he could feel the wet spot on his shirt from her tears. It was the first time he'd ever had to deal with something like this in his life. And it wasn't even his mama who'd been murdered. He couldn't even imagine how Libby felt, so how was he supposed to talk with her about it?

But before he could think of a way to break the ice and approach the topic of what had actually happened last night, she broke the silence first. Pulling back from him slowly, she wiped her eyes and sniffled, Will's arms dropping to his sides, watching her carefully. "I keep hopin' I'm gonn wake up, an' nona it will've happened."

Silence surrounded them, save for the quivering breaths she took. And within that moment, Will found his courage, seeing this as good a time as any. "What _did_ happen, Libby?" he finally just flat out asked.

He waited for her to start whimpering and crying again. He waited for her to curse him for asking, and yell at him to get away from her. But she didn't.

As if he'd broken through to her somehow, her eyes suddenly met his. They were sad, troubled and dark, much like her father's. Their colors matched now. Chet's had been like that as long as Will could remember, likely from the war. But Libby's, they had always been full of life and brighter than Chet's, though they were close in coloring. But the life in her eyes came from her mother's own blue orbs, a smile hidden inside them always and a sparkle in the corner. But the brightness seemed to have washed out with Lucy's passing, and Will thought if he saw just Libby's eyes right now, he wouldn't even recognize her.

Somehow, William's direct question had worked. It mattered none how many times she'd been asked the same thing by the others. Because right now, she decided to speak, a story she would never repeat again. And Will hung onto her every word.

Her tears ran rapidly down her face, though she was able to talk without sobbing for the most part. It had gotten to the point where it was just natural, the liquid falling down her face, and Will didn't know how to stop it, but he really wished he could, because he hated to see her so heartbroken.

"I… I… we was just ridin' along." It all seemed so hectic when it had happened, this had been the first time she'd truly gone over the order of events in her mind like this. Before, all she could think about was what had happened when she'd gotten away, what she'd heard happening, and how thankful she'd been to hear Will calling out to her when she thought she was done for. "All've a sudden, we turned fast an' went off trail. It was all bumpy. I fell off my seat." It was like she'd gotten a chill, the way she trembled, and William felt the same tremor run through his own body as he listened intently. "An' then, everythin' stopped. Horses quit pullin'. An'… an' there was gunfire. They killed the driver."

Swallowing hard, Libby stretched her legs out to the floor sitting beside William in the same fashion he sat on her bed. "There was three of 'em, I think, but I ain't never really caught sight of 'em. They jus'… I can't stop hearin' their voices. The escorts went out and they was arguin'. Then they shot them too. Mama pulled the lock on the door, but they knew we was in there, an' they kept tryin' ta get in. Mama gave me her ring, opened the bottom hatch, an' said ta run an' hide till she found me, an' if she didn't ta run an' find my Pap. I didn't wanna go, an' I started cryin'… but she said I hadta. Told me ta hold onta her ring, 'cause no bandits was gonna get that from her." She sighed deeply, and Will wanted to tell her he'd found the ring, and that she didn't have to worry about that small detail anymore at least, but he was afraid if he interrupted her, she'd stop telling him. And he knew along with his father and Uncle Chet, that Libby's testimony was the best chance they had at piecing the puzzle of who'd murdered her mother together.

"I didn't run straight away. I hid near some rocks, an' I waited fer her. Thought she'd run behind me. But they'd got in by then. I could hear her screamin', an' them laughin'. I know what it sounds like when skin breaks open from a man's fist. I tried ta run but I couldn't move, not till I heard clothes rippin' an'—"

"Stop." Will couldn't listen to it anymore. That was enough detail to last him the rest of his life. He was sick with disgust, pressing his hand against his lean stomach trying to soothe the discomfort her story had arose.

There were tears welled up in her eyes again when he finally got the courage to look back at her. Never had he thought Libby looked so weak and fragile, even though he'd always held her in that image. Just a little girl who needed protecting all the time. But comparably, she had been a lioness before all of this. "I dunno what happened ta her. Do… do you?"

The question formed a lump in his throat, and for a minute he thought he might thro up, nervously thinking h had to tell her the truth, that her mama had been all cut up, practically gutted like a fish, and choked with a cattle rope. But thinking she was likely more delicate than those few fancy dolls she still had, he lied. "No Lib. I dunno exactly."

The girl heaved a heavy sigh, once again pulling her legs up and hugging her knees. "Can't even find her ring neither. Must've fell off my stupid finger an' I ain't even noticed," she moaned, seemingly ready to fall back into her pit of dispair at the notion she'd lost her mother's most prized possession, the ring that was meant to go to Libby when she married.

"No! I found the ring, Libby!" Will sounded more excited than he probably should have, almost lighting up as the words left his mouth. It may have been the ray of hope she needed to her, he thought. "Seen it sparklin' in the moon, right near that hole you was in. It's how I found ya. Just gave it ta yer Pa."

Will stared, waiting for a reaction, while her eyes seemed to brighten, ever so slightly at this news, and he felt proud he'd been able to do that when she seemed to sad she'd never be happy again. She had an expression of utter disbelief on her face, hawing already made peace with the idea that the ring was gone.

"Will… when I got in that foxhole, I was so cold an' lost, I meant ta fall asleep thinkin' I wasn't gonna wake up again." She took another wavering breath before she looked him dead in eyes and said words that would stay with him for the rest of his life. "Thank you. For savin' my life. I'll never forget what you done for me."

* * *

_Hatfield Family Plot_  
_Logan, West Virginia, 1878_

Libby was drained.

Both physically and emotionally.

Revered Dyke Garret had come to perform a service before Lucy would be buried in the Sawyer family plot, a space beside her reserved for her husband, the gated section located inside the Hatfield cemetery. Chet had thought he would have been the one to be buried first, surely, but here he stood, burying his young wife instead, too young to be in the ground.

It seemed as though groves of people from the community had come to bid her mother farewell, as she had been somewhat of a socialite in Boston and kept true to that even in simpler place, like West Virginia. Libby remembered when she was too young to play off on her own with the Hatfield boys that Lucy would often drag her around community events so she could socialize with practically everyone there, Elizabeth herself being keen on the attention she'd receive from the older women, and the men would often give her a shiny coin or sweet.

But today Libby didn't know how her father could listen to it. Everyone saying how they were sorry for his loss, and how they'd pray for her and her father, or worst of all, offering to provide anything they may need. _Nothing_ would bring her mother back to her. _Nothing_ would make this hole in her heart close, _never_. She was a broken spirit now, hit with the harsh realities of life, and she saw no recovery in sight.

Now Libby could understand why Will thought all her fictional books were so stupid. She had spent countless hours, hours that could have been spent with her mother, reading about fake places, and people who never existed, and never would.

The Sawyer girl seemed to have turned cold due to her mother's passing, so no one pressured her when she wandered away from the gravesite and over to the carriages. She wanted to go, as quickly as possible, and get away from this place. She didn't want to see that godforsaken box her mother's body lay in for another second. She couldn't bear it.

Libby bent forward, her hands on her knees as she breathed deeply, trying not to break down, here where so many could see. She had been brave most of the duration of the service, only crying harshly once, but she was feeling her walls starting to crumble once more, and she wanted to leave. Her legs were shaking, and though her eyes hurt from crying, the tears seemed to well up again.

"I's real sorry, 'bout yer mama, Libby." Freezing, Libby stood and turned after taking a deep, calming breath, seeing Cotton standing behind her. Though he was Will's age, he was simple minded, and his growth a bit stunted, seeming more like a young child that a boy coming into manhood, much younger than even she. Mostly though, Libby knew he was a sensitive boy, and if he saw her crying, he might be apt to do the same.

All her life, Libby had been appointed the caretaker of Cotton within the group of children, being as she was basically the only girl aside from the oldest Hatfield girl, Nancy, who was much rougher than Libby ever was despite being just about nine, and the two young ones, Mary and Elizabeth. But it had always been fine by Libby because she didn't like roughhousing anyway, so naturally, she had a massive soft spot for the toe-headed boy, having spent a great deal of time with him. His favorite thing to do was listen to her read him books, though he had a bit of a rough time following some of the longer ones.

"Thank you Cotton," she managed, putting on the bravest face she knew how. She didn't want him to see her upset, over all people, save for maybe her father right now. Cotton was the type who would feel her pain, all heart, and she didn't want to torment him.

"Hey Cotton Top, yer pap's lookin' for ya." Libby could've kissed William for intervening, once again her savior as he made his way over to her, a concerned look on his young face.

Cotton quickly threw his arms around Libby's waist and squeezed her, a bit tightly, before he rushed off to find Ellison, always one to mind his father and be obedient. Though Libby wasn't quite sure Will had been entirely truthful in interrupting their interaction.

William stuck around, leaning up against one of the carts she'd been trying to keep out of sight behind and looked at her, dressed in all dark, a sad sight, he thought, as she preferred more colorful things normally, loving to turn heads and be the center of attention. She didn't look like the girl he'd known a few months ago anymore though. There was something so grown about her now, and he didn't know what, but he knew it had something to do with what had happened. She seemed older than he and his brothers even somehow, though she'd seemingly been just a little girl before she'd left.

"You hangin' in there, Libby girl?" he questioned softly. His blue eyes flickered up to hers, seeing the distress still evident, and he briefly wondered if her eyes would ever be bright and shining like they once were, again.

"Barely," she breathed out, the breath shuddering, though she seemed to keep it under control. He saw her hand reach out, trembling with contained emotion as she placed it on the edge of the cart to keep steadied.

"It's gonna be okay, y'know. Even without her. We's all gonna help you an' yer pap. Forever, if we gotta. An' shoot, my mama likes you better 'an she likes any 'a her own kids anyways." It was his attempt at a joke but she didn't laugh, probably because even though it was amusing, there was just nothing to laugh about. He knew from the conversations he'd heard last night that Libby would be spending a lot of time around his mother, learning what her womanly duties would be once she was married, what a women in West Virginia hills was expected to know. Deep down he knew it wouldn't be the same as having her own mother there though.

"I ain't got no mama anymore," she whimpered, still stunned by it in her own mind, though her voice somehow found the words. The worst part was, she wasn't sure it had even truly sunk in yet, still seeming so surreal.

"Lotsa people ain't got one parent 'r the other. Hell, some kids ain't got none! I know it hurts bad, but it'll get easier, y'know that, right? Look at Tom Sawyer! Lives with his auntie! An' what about his friend? Huck? His pap's an' old drunk an' his mama's dead. Least yer daddy's a good, honest, workin' man. Ain't neither one 'a them have livin' mamas." Libby just stared hollowly back at William, and he wondered if his words had served as any comfort to her at all.

"You read it?" That was what she had asked almost in a whisper, maybe amazed by this revelation more so than William's, what he saw as, wise words. It was something she had expected him to forget about, or maybe even purposely ignore. But he knew about the character, so she knew he must've taken the time to read the book she'd given him.

"Yeah, guess I did." He gave her a weak, lopsided smile before he placed a hand on her shoulder. "Got kinda borin' without ya around ta pick on all the time. Been workin' fer my Pa anyhow, so I needed somethin' ta keep me busy at lunch."

"You truly read the whole book?" Elizabeth questioned in disbelief. He'd been stubborn about reading anything that wasn't the newspaper since she'd been helping him read, so to imagine him reading the entire front to back of the novel,

"I did," he admitted. He'd been victimized with some teasing for it too, having his nose stuck in a book at work, mostly from Uncle Jim, Johnse and Skunkhair, but he'd endured it. He'd even practiced his writing some, and had gotten a lot better at both.

"So… did ya like it?" she wondered after another quiet moment, moving over to one of the Hatfield's cart horses and petting the smooth brown coat near it's withers. She wouldn't get on one of the beasts alone, never had, but she did like the soothing effect they seemed to possess. All morning before the funeral, she had locked herself away in the barn and sat in front of her father's riding horse, a young gelding that was a monster in size, but sweet as Levicy's elderberry preserves. The horse would nuzzle her hand and lean into her attention, only to chew on hay quietly while she lost herself in fits of sadness, once in a while, his nose brushing against her head, maybe wondering if she were all right.

"Read the whole thing, din't I?" Will reminded her, coming to stand by her side and imitate her motions, petting the horse near the head.

Will wasn't certain, and he never would be, but he thought he saw the tiniest, twitch of the corner of her mouth, something he wasn't sure he'd ever see again.

* * *

_Sawyer Cabin _  
_Logan, West Virginia, 1878_

"Hey Libby girl, how ya feelin'?" It had become the question Johnse Hatfield asked Libby every time he saw her now, since the horrific incident that had taken the life of her mother near a month ago. Will elbowed his brother in the ribs, knowing that it bothered her when people brought attention to the fact she'd endured what she had, though weeks had passed and the talk of it had generally died down.

A girl who once reveled in attention now had become much of a recluse, avoiding the outdoors to the point where her hair had darkened a shade, and the roots were not lightening the way they normally did from the sunlight. It was warming up now, but it seemed Libby was content to stay closed in the house, or the Hatfield's, only ever traveling with their kin or her own father, terrified to go anywhere off their combined land on her own, or without someone she trusted.

And going into town was a nightmare. She'd hardly been since the murder of her mother now over a month ago. Though she had still gone to church and sat teary eyed every Sunday morning in the pews, looking down at her hands, not praying, only letting her lip quiver every so often before she sucked it in and took a controlled breath. Levicy had been attending church regularly since also, bringing the young children, though both Joohnse, William and Devil Anse himself had declined the invitation each time. They weren't much for church, not at all. Cotton had told the boys about how sad Libby always looked in church, as he and his father attended. Even Robert E had gone once or twice, just to sit beside her and pull faces to try and get her to crack a smile, always unsuccessfully.

But all in all, maybe aside from his mother, Will had spent the most time with Libby, maybe even more than her Pap. Chet had taken it hard too, but Libby being so… _defeated_, had made it that much harder on him. The man drowned himself in work and liquor at the tavern with Uncle Jim and Skunkhair and drunk Bill Staton. Will, Rob and Johnse had been informed they were expected to help Libby out of her funk by their mother, however, Johnse had better things on his mind, like girls, and Rob gave up quickly. So Will was often left to do all her cheering up on his own. Which was fine by him, as Johnse tended to mess it up anyway. Today would likely be no different.

Will could tell somehow that all the adults around him depended on him to handle Libby, because he was so good at it, he and Cotton Top too, but Cotton was just so sweet, Libby couldn't bring herself to burden him with her continuous sadness. Will wasn't so lucky, the girl always painfully honest about what was bothering her to him, whether it be nightmares, or just missing her mother an extra lot that day; it varied.

She cried every day. The boys knew because each afternoon, excluding Sundays, Chet would come to the Hatfield home with Anse and them after work was finished, and they'd all eat the meal Libby and Levicy had been cooking. Then Chet brought her home, right around the time her eyes would start tearing up and everyone else would grow quiet. Even Levicy had been taking it easy on her, only really making her work in the kitchen, hang laundry, and help with the young children. She hadn't even tried to get her out to the chickens and other animals yet, chores she knew Libby had little to no experience doing, and would likely not be thrilled about.

And until today, the boys had avoided asking her to indulge in their fantasies about the James-Younger Gang and the Lincoln County Regulators with them, like they'd used to. After they'd shown her even girls could be outlaws, it had quickly become her favorite game to play, as she was undoubtedly included. But her mother's murder had turned her into a different person, much more quiet and dismal now, even much older seeming than the two boys who were both her senior, and she made Robert E seem like a toddler, considering both he and Libby were the same age. Not to mention they had gotten about nowhere in figuring out who the murderous bastards were, making them some unknown bandits, which is why they had been worried she would react, well, the way she inevitably did.

But today being a Sunday, and Libby being home from church by now, they decided it was worth a shot. Maybe she'd come around again if they restored the normality of the friendship they'd had.

As per usual, Libby responded with a shrug to Johnse's question, eyes cast downward at her folded hands. Johnse gave his brother a sideways glance, before he just went for it. "Well, got somethin' I think'll cheer ya up!" Slapping the folded paper onto the table, Libby actually looked at it, a pondering expression crossing her face. "Will don't read near as good as you," Johnse encouraged, also being truthful, though his younger brother punched him in the shoulder anyway

The girl's eyes scanned the headline, one she admits, normally would have intrigued and excited her. Somehow they'd all seemed like heroes. But not now, not anymore.

"What're ya stupid Johnse?" They'd never heard her be quite so harsh towards them for no reason before. Her feet stomped on the floor as she quickly stood from the chair she'd been sunken into and swatted the newspaper onto the floor, pages fluttering in different directions. "I don't wanna know 'bout them no good bandits, understand me? I don't wanna hear 'bout them, I don't wanna pretend like we're gonna grow up an' be like 'em, an' I certainly don't wanna read 'bout 'em an' the people whose lives they destroy!"

Johnse was much more brash and emotion-driven than his younger brother, making him seem as though he were actually the junior of the two. And hell if he hadn't gone out of his way to be especially nice to Libby since her mom had died. "Just cause yer mama's dead Libby, don' mean yer gonna talk ta me like that! I can still whoop ya!"

"Cut it out Johnse! Go on an' get outta here," Will intervened quickly, realizing Libby was not doing well at all today, and she was lashing out at his brother because of it. And Johnse wasn't having it anymore.

Somehow, Will had found the patience to deal with it. He didn't know where it had come from, but he guessed it had to do with the fact he'd been the one to see her first. Hell, it had practically traumatized him too, seeing her _that_ scared.

Will had grown protective of her, slugging Jefferson McCoy just last week when he'd been running his mouth about Libby, calling her a nasty name based on her recent mood change, despite the fact the McCoy was quite a few years his senior. Though it wasn't necessarily an untrue statement, Will wouldn't tolerate anyone saying it about her, and besides, she was never rotten to him. In fact, he was one of the only people who seemed to be able to crack a smile out of her these days. And watching him shoot seemed to be one of the only things she kind of enjoyed doing. So they'd spent a lot of time together. Her favorite thing was to sit out in the woods with him and tell him what to shoot. Even the things she'd set him up for failure with seemed to go down when he pulled the trigger though. The kid never missed.

Following Johnse and simultaneously leaving Libby to cool off for a minute before he went in and worked his, what must have been, Hatfield charm on her, Will sighed exasperatedly.

"Ya jus' need ta back offa her when she gets like that, get it?" Will told Johnse in a warning tone. He didn't want to have to beat up his own brother, but he might if he made the wrong move and sent Libby into tears.

"How much longer we all gotta be walkin' on eggshells 'round her? Ain't like I was even askin' fer it!" Johnse was well aware that he teased her to the brink of frustration often, but he'd been sensitive about her mourning her mother still. But it was time to suck it up, in his opinion. Life went on, and sulking wasn't about to bring her mama back to her.

"Ya don't get it Johns." Will's eyes were serious now, much different from the playful glint that was almost always there. They looked much like they had the night he'd rode up to his brother with a shivering Libby on the front of his horse. "Ya didn' see her. Ya didn' see her face. She was so… scared. Looked at me like I saved her life." Sometimes, the look of terror on her face, the horror in her eyes haunted his sleep. Will would shoot up in bed, and it was always the last thing he remembered seeing, the way the moon had been reflecting in the glossy orbs of the girl he'd known his whole life.

And maybe that _was_ how he felt. Like he'd saved her life. And like he ought to keep protecting her. After all, she only had her father. Lord knows that man hadn't even had his own minute to grieve since he'd spent most of his time worrying about Libby's state of being instead and trying to figure out how to handle her over a bottle of whiskey.

"Well, _you_ can go on in there an' coddle her, but I ain't gonna be yelled at fer nothin'. I'm goin' home!" Stomping off to his horse, Johnse pulled himself up onto his saddle and rode off in the direction of the Hatfield home.

"Well, shit!" Will cursed before he went back inside Libby's house, and found her sobbing as she picked up her mess of newspaper pages, feeling silly for lashing out the way she had, but she'd been unable to control her emotions for a while now. Johnse might've expected it had he not been avoiding her mostly, uncomfortable by her open displays of sadness. The eldest Hatfield boy just didn't handle serious situations well at all.

Even Libby was tired of herself, every single day passing and unable to avoid reminders of how her mother had been ripped away from her by people with no motive other than to rob the small amount of money they'd had with them.

Will's voice calling out her name had seemed like an illusion that night, a sound too sweet to be real. But he had been, and maybe that's why, at the age of twelve, Libby was already sure she loved the boy not much older than her. Though she'd spent most of her life waiting for them to invite her to play, her attachment to the middle Hatfield boy had become almost obsessive since he'd come to her rescue and found her in the deep, dark unknown.

The blonde boy walked over to her as she focused on not crying too heavily in front of him, his hands reaching for the papers she'd been attempting to clean up, embarrassed by her own childish actions.

"We were hopin' it'd cheer ya up Lib, is all. He didn't mean nothin' by it," William defended his older brother. He usually did the opposite, _trying_ to get his own kin in trouble with his mama and pap as opposed to covering for him, but in this case, it was more for Libby's sake. Johnse was actually _trying_ to be nice for once, and she'd gone and blown up at him.

"I know… an'… I'm sorry fer actin' like a miserable brat all the time. I just… I want my mama," she sobbed, Will feeling compelled to wrap her in a comforting hug. He already stood a good half-foot taller than her, having hit a growth spurt rivaling his older brother's. Both boys were all limbs, Robert E sure to follow in their footsteps and stand tall and lean muscled, just like Devil Anse.

"C'mon Lib s'okay. Johns'll git over it." This is usually how it went; Will would feel bad for trying to make her see reason because he couldn't forget the disturbing look in her eyes when he'd found her. He never wanted her to feel upset again because of it. No one understood like he did. "Ya got yer pap still Lib, he loves ya. An' mine. An' my mama too. She'll teach ya everythin' ya need ta know. She loves ya like her own."

Trying to regain control of her sobs, Libby pulled away from Will, straightening her appearance by smoothing her hair and wiping her tears.

"Yer gonna be okay Lib, don'tchya worry." Will was caught in her haunted gaze, tear filled and glossy.

"I… lied ta ya Will." The Hatfield boy looked confused and unsure, wondering what she was speaking of. She was not one to lie. In fact, she'd had quite a reputation as being a tattletale to he and his brothers.

"Whatdya mean? 'Bout what?"

I saw 'em kill her Will. I stayed back an' hid, an' I watched 'em do it. Choked her an' gutted her like a fish!" Frozen as she collapsed into him once again, weeping uncontrollably as she revealed her secret, what had been plaguing her this whole time, Will swallowed hard. At no point had he heard that part of the story, and he doubted anyone else had either.

Instinctively, he wrapped his arms tighter around her, holding her close into his chest until she calmed before he pulled her back, holding her by the shoulders and keeping her eyes. "Libby… did ya tell yer pap?" Confirming his suspicions, she shook her head and attempted to control herself. The fourteen-year-old young man was at a loss. "Ya gotta tell someone Lib! Maybe they can find 'em" Either the sheriff, or Anse's Wildcats were bound to track them down if she could give them a description. Petty thieves like that would definitely have hit more than once, and to be murdering women like that, Will just couldn't understand it.

"Their faces was covered. I didn't see 'em. Not really. I just saw what they done. An' their voices… I won't never forget them." Her voice quivered as she spoke. "I don't want no one else ta know Will. Just you. Please?"

He wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to deny her anything ever again. Part of him still felt she should tell her father and see what he thinks, but if she hadn't seen the bandits faces, then it did them no good anyway. And he got why she wouldn't want everyone in the county talking more than they already were. "Okay, I won't tell no one."

* * *

_Hatfield Barn  
Logan, West Virginia, 1878_

It wasn't only Johnse who had decided Libby had been babied enough. Levicy too had begun going a bit harder on her. William had seen her three times out in the barn now, trying her best to keep away from the pig slop and instead busying herself with the chickens and horses mostly, though his mother had been preparing her to milk one of the goats when he'd left to go to work in the morning. He'd almost wished he could stay to watch it, something he never thought he'd be seeing, that was for sure.

He found it a hard scene to imagine, the girl he'd known his whole life, sopping wet with the spring storm they'd been hit with, working in the barn with his mother and younger siblings. But Will rode a little faster on his way home from work, wanting to escape the chilly rain himself and also hoping to catch a glimpse of the unthinkable.

Libby wasn't so amused by her new chores. She would much rather be inside, taking care of the babies and preparing food for supper. Her dress was filthy, covered in mud and muck and her skirts heavy with wet. Levicy had taken the milk and eggs inside, leaving Libby to clean the horse's stalls, though it was a chore she wasn't fond of, she did like the company of the large animals. There was something soothing about them, and as long as she didn't have to mess around with the pigs, she wasn't going to complain.

Wandering into the barn, Libby pulled her father's coat from the war tighter around her body, loving how it smelled of him, crisp autumn leaves, smoke and pine from the timber yard. It was a smell she'd smelled on Will's clothes too, only he smelled more like fresh summer grass and clear spring water than the leaves of fall like her daddy did.

Now Libby had always liked the horses: but she'd always been scared of them too, far too scared to ever ride one on her own. Her father had only three at the moment, their rogue colt having been sold last fall on Election Day.

The Hatfields had a full barn normally, though Johnse, Anse and William had all taken their horses out to work, their stalls now sitting empty. Three were outside, all cart horses, and two of the others were still sitting inside their stalls, one with a sore leg being treated daily, and the other fat and in foal.

Sighing, Libby picked up a pitchfork, not enthused by her duty to these animals right now, thinking it was a job better suited for Robert E, but she wouldn't dare argue with Levicy. She wasn't very quick with the task, that ws for certain, but once she was done, she picked up a brush anyway and made her way int the stall with the in-foal mare, happily chewing on her hay, raising her big dark eyes to the girl before snoring acceptingly and returning to her food.

"Here girl, shh," Libby cooed at the horse as she stepped up to her and hesitantly pressed the brush to her neck before sweeping it down her fur and stirring a cloud of thin dust from her bedding.

Good, girl," she praised, a bit nervous, alone in the stall, but she continued the process of grooming the horse, and she began to get lost in her task, mind calm for once, something she found rare these recent weeks.

But the barn door swung open, giving her a fright that made her jump and spin around, the mare whinnying, not as affected, though she did look to Libby as though she were annoyed she had stopped grooming her.

William was the culprit, seeming to always be around Libby since she'd told him the truth behind her distant behavior, excluding when he was at work, trying to get his horse in from the rain quickly before he was anymore wet than he already was. It had been a light sprinkle most of the day, but had started to become heavier as Will rode into sight of his family's stable.

"Hey Lib. Workin' hard?" He was teasing, she could tell as he began to untack his horse. Pulling his wet jacket off first as he moved the reins between both hands and shook his arms free of his soaked sleeves.

"Yer real funny William," she snipped at him as she started to pick through her last stall.

He was surprised when he looked up, to find her pulling a brush through a horse's mane, actually _in_ the stall. "Gettin' brave, huh?" he questioned her as he led his own horse into the stable.

"Scared me half ta death, bargin' in like that. Gonna get me kicked," she scolded Will as he locked the door to his horse's stall and then approached the mare's, where Libby had returned to her task of combing out the tangled in the horse's wiry hair.

Will watched her through his wet strands of hair, wondering if she would ever let go of her inhibitions. She was so timid, even more so now it seemed. Sure, he liked her fine the way she was, but he'd always felt she missed out on things just because she was such a scared little thing. Somehow now though, it seemed urgent to him she find some kind of hobby. She needed joy back in her life. "When you gonna get on one a them Lib?"

"Not never," she quickly replied, truly believing it was a fear she would never overcome. She'd seen people be thrown and kicked and struck by horses before, and it had been enough to deter her. It was a miracle she would even get this close to one in the first place.

"Aw, c'mon. You been out here with 'em a lot lately. Ain't you even wanna learn ta ride?" He watched as she paused in her motions a minute, as though she truly was considering the option.

Most her age, even girls, knew how to ride. The three eldest Hatfield boys had all been riding since they could walk, and were all seasoned professionals on horseback now. And it wasn't something she could say she'd ever given much consideration towards, especially being the age she was. It seemed something you should learn in your youth, when mortality wasn't such a big deal, but the risk of injury or death that came with riding such a large animal worried her more than ever now. "I dunno."

"I can teach ya. Ain't hard. Ya just gotta stop bein' so damn scared. Pistol right here'd take 'care 'a ya. It'd be like babysittin' fer him." Pistol was Will's own horse, a very trustworthy steed that didn't even flinch whenever he shotgun let out a loud crack. He wasn't the biggest, but he had a shining bay coat with a white stripe down the center of his face, and a little snip on his nose.

As though confirming Will's proposal, Pistol let out a snort of acceptance before he buried his head in a pile of hay again. "See?" the blonde boy emphasized, gesturing to his horse. "Put the brush down an' git over here."

"You want me ta get on right _now_?" Libby asked incredulously, stepping away from the mare and out of the stall, abandoning the brush and putting her hands on her hips as she looked at her friend disbelievingly.

"Sure, why not?" he replied, thinking if she just jumped on his back in the stall and saw how nice he would be, she'd get over her apprehensions about riding. It was damn pathetic in his eyes, not knowing how to ride at her age, girl or not.

"I'm s'posed ta help yer mama." It wasn't even the best reason she had for not submitting herself to William's riding lesson.

"Nancy can help her. I'm gonna go tell her," Will persistently assured her though, kind of surprised he'd gotten her to even humor the idea.

"No! I can't today. It's rainin'!" Libby continued to protest. She couldn't fathom what she'd been thinking, almost letting Will make her think it would be a good idea for her of all people to ride a big, heavy animal.

"Aw, c'mon Libby! You jus' gonna be scared 'a everythin' the resta yer life? That _ain't_ no life." He stopped for a second, choosing his words very carefully. "Yer mama wouldn't want ya bein' like ya been Libby."

There. It was out in the open. He had finally said it. Which meant he was likely done babying her too.

It was the silence that echoed in his ears though as opposed to the sound of her response. Her yelling. Her crying. There was just nothing. Just a deafening silence as she looked down at the ground.

Will became nervous. He wondered if he'd overstepped the boundaries of their friendship with his words. He just wanted her to be normal again though, back to the Libby he always knew. It seemed like she never had fun anymore, never truly smiled. Hell, Will'd give his left eye for everything to be back to normal again, for them to be able to play and laugh like they'd used to.

"You was the only one who had the decency not ta point it out," Libby finally breathed. Her words made his heart sink, the hurt in her voice apparent.

"I just… I miss ya Lib. I dunno what else ta say." William scratched the back of his head, his hair damp and dripping onto the collar of his shirt before his hands clapped against his pants as he exasperatedly let them drop to the sides of his thighs.

"I'm… I'm right here." Her voice wavered as she spoke. "I ain't ever gonna be the same again though. I ain't never gonna… unsee what I seen Will. No one can never understand that but me. It's my burden ta carry, alone, the resta my life." He felt as though he were listening to an adult, one much wiser and more experienced in life than he as the boy watched her stand right before him. Her glassy eyes stared into his, cold and dark like the damp bark of the trees outside. "One day ya might understand. But I sure hope you don't." She wouldn't wish this kind of inner torture on her worst enemy.

William stood silently, unsure of how to respond. Words of comfort seemed to be running low. He could only tell her she'd be all right so many times before it began to become meaningless. All he could do was show her. Life would go on. She could still enjoy it. And some day, she wouldn't think about her mother's horrible death so much. But in all honestly, he wasn't even sure that was true himself.

"C'mon," he stated simply instead, his gaze unwavering from hr own. "Yer gonna sit on the damn horse. I'm not lettin' ya just curl up an' die Lib." Then he reached out and snatched her hand, before tugging her towards the stall of his faithful steed.

"He ain't even tacked!" she hurridly protected as her steps dragged behind William's long and forceful strides.

"So what? He's an old man. Ain't gonna buck ya. We don't even haveta leave the stall." He tried to make it seem better as he pulled the door open, knowing if he could just get her to sit on the damn animal, he'd hook her. "Today anyways."

"I… I don't think it's a good idea." It had been almost her lifetime since she'd sat atop a horse, and she'd not been in a rush to change that. But Will looked sternly at her, his eyes saying if she didn't do it, she would never hear the end of it from him. And she never liked to look like a coward in front of the Hatfield boys, always attempting to put her bravest face on. Sadly, it wasn't just the face that would save her this time.

"I ain't takin' no fer an answer Lib. Yer gettin' on an' that's that. Now get on over here an' I'll give ya a leg. All's you gotta do is sit. Promise I won't make ya do nothin' else if ya jus' get on today." He was going to take hr mind f the conversation they'd just had. He couldn't take the heaviness of everything surrounding her right now. He needed her to have fun, for everyone's sake. Especially and mostly hers.

Gulping, Libby stepped toward the horse, inside the stall as William held onto his halter. "Jus' hold onto his mae right here."

"Won't it hurt him?" she worried, not sure if pulling on a horse's hair would be the smartest thing to do upon sitting on it's back.

"Nah, he ain't even barely gonna feel it. Here, jus' like this." Will tangled her fingers into the black hair sticking out from his horse's withers, seeing how white knuckled her grip was and feeling the stiffness in her fingers. "Jus' relax Libby," he told her, catching her eyes once more.

"I'm tryin' she whimpered, the shakiness in her voice making it evident she wasn't being very successful.

"On three, jump an' put yer leg over, alright? Try not ta kick his rump with yer foot when ya swing yer leg, got it?" He doubted his horse would move a non-commanded muscle anyway, but it wasn't a habit she should get into. "One, two, three!" he counted, her body lurching a second after he'd said the last number, though Will practically had to throw her on Pistol's back because her jump had been so short.

"Will!" she was nervous as Pistol shifted his weight, moving a little as he adjusted to the girl atop him, not so graceful as she normally was while attempting to sit comfortably and safely.

"Jus' hold on. Yer fine an' so is he. Sit up." Will couldn't hide his satisfied smirk as he watched her, letting go of Pistol's halter once she was upright, and as comfortable looking as she would get. "See, yer fine up there. Look like a natural ta me." It wasn't the first time he'd tried to get her to ride, but it was the only time he'd been successful in doing so.

"Yer a liar." Will just laughed, knowing she had called him out on his fib. She looked terrified up there, but it was all right. Because right now, he'd gotten Elizabeth Sawyer up onto a bareback horse without very much persuasion at all. That would've been an accomplishment even if she hadn't just been through what she had.

But she seemed to become a bit more comfortable as the horse just stood there for her, happily eating hay and swishing his tail. "You'll be ridin' with us on yer own horse in no time," he assured her.

"I ain't so sure about that, William," she reminded him, and he swore she almost laughed at the idea.

"I'll take ya outside tomorrow, when I get home. How 'bout it?" Now was the time to get her to agree. Because once she did, he could always hold it over her head that she'd said she'd ride outside.

"No." It was flat and direct. She wasn't that brave, not yet, and probably not ever.

"C'mon, you'll be fine. E'ry Hatfield woman can ride a horse. An' shoot a gun. An' skin a rabbit. Gotta learn somehow Libby," he told her as if it were obvious.

"I ain't a Hatfield though." Ages back on her father's side she might have a bit of Hatfield blood, but truthfully, she was more McCoy than Hatfield, Sally being her father's second cousin.

Will didn't say anything, though he knew one day she would be. Between him and his brothers, he knew his parents would pressure one, or all of them, to make her an official part of their family. It would be coming, sooner than later. It had only been a running joke until now. But she was growing, and so were they. Johnse would be marrying age soon, and Will would be right behind him. He'd already saved a good amount of money from working to build a house on his father's land for his future wife, and Johnse had already started building a still for himself, and was going to get started on his own home as well, not far off.

"Already told ya, Sawyer's as good as Hatfield." It was all he could say on the matter right now. Though Will knew, he was well aware, it would be him that she wanted. He had always been in her favor, even when she was cross with him and his brothers.

"Can I get down now?" she squeaked as Pistol began walking around his stall, Will wondering if it were to tease her a bit, curious as to whether his horse was actually that smart.

"I s'ppose so. Jus' throw yer leg over an' Slide off." Will returned to Pistol's front, holding him still as she awkwardly dismounted, making an 'oomph' sound as her feet stamped the shavings hard. "See, wasn't so bad, right?"

"I guess not. But he didn't have far ta go, neither," she reasoned as they left Pistol to his hay, Libby patting him on the neck as she followed William out of the stall.

"I'm gonna go shootin' with Cotton an' Robert E after supper, if'n it stops rainin'. Wanna come?" he questioned as he picked up his wet jacket, preparing to follow her inside the house. He couldn't be sure what she was thinking, but her expression seemed less troubled now, and he wanted t hold onto that for as long as he could. The more he did with her, the better she might feel, and maybe one day, she'd almost be back to normal.

"You don't want me hangin' around ya'll when yer doin' stuff like that." Never a stupid girl, she knew the boys tended to ditch her, especially when it came to activities like hunting, shooting and fishing.

"I'm askin' cause I want ya ta come Lib. So just come, okay?" Will's eyes seemed to plead with her, and she couldn't tell him no despite feeling as though his invitation was prompted by pity somehow. "Cotton'll wanna showya how good his aim's gettin'."

Libby bit down on her bottom lip as she thought on the matter for a moment longer before she agreed. She did quite enjoy the sound of gunfire and the excitement of watching how far away Will could hit his mark. He was quite talented when it came to sharp shooting, and could hit things with a bullet before she could even see them in the distance. It was no wonder he'd been able to pick up her mother's ring, even in the dark of night.

"I'll come… but I aint shootin' nothin'. Already talked me inta gettin' on the horse. That's all yer gonna get today, William Hatfield." The smirk that seemed to hide in the corner of her mouth made him smile back at her boyishly before he gestured for her to exit the barn before him, closing the door shut behind her as they rushed into the house, trying to escape the still spitting rain, Libby yelping and Will laughing after her as she nearly slipped in the mud, his hand snatching hers to encourage her to go faster.

Maybe she would be all right. Maybe it all would, so long as he was here to remind her she wasn't the one who was dead.

* * *

**PLEASE DON'T FORGET TO LEAVE A REVIEW!**


	4. Part IV

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the Hatfields and McCoys series. Though historical accuracy may appear, this is a work of pure fiction. I do not claim any connection to the real William 'Cap' Hatfield, or any other historical people mentioned in this story.

**AN: **Thanks to everyone who reviewed! This story is coming along so easily right now! The actress in my banner, I'm not sure who she is. I think it's the girl who played Roseanna in another crappy Hatfields and McCoys movie, but I can't remember for sure.

**IMPORTANT!: This story has been gutted and revised. I have added A LOT to the previous chapters, and by a lot, I mean like 20 pages in Word to each chapter. If you have begun reading this before 11/20/14, I urge you to reread, as aspects of the plot have changed greatly, and many new scenes have been included. Scenes that have already appeared in previous chapters may be in this chapter now, because that's how much I added to the story. Some scenes in this chapter are also new though. Sorry for the inconvenience but this story has really all come together for me recently so I had to go back and fix it.**

* * *

**Almost Heaven, West Virginia  
Part IV**

* * *

_Hatfield Cabin  
Logan, West Virginia, 1878_

When Will had thought he'd give his eye to have Libby back to normal, he hadn't meant _literally_.

"Hi William." He was unusually unhappy to hear her voice. Why had they let _her_ in? He'd lost all hope for his eye. Doc said it would likely cap over, and he knew he'd probably lost his vision in it for good at this point. Why did they have to let her come over to see though? He'd done a fine job of avoiding her since his eye caught the splinter at work.

"Hi," he mumbled, keeping his gaze away from her. Looking at Libby would mean he couldn't still pretend she wasn't really here.

"Johnse told me… y,know, 'bout yer eye so… I baked ya a peach cobbler. Jus' hopin' it'll make ya… feel better. I remembered ya liked it so much last Election Day." Baking sweets was a talent of Libby's, one she thankfully didn't keep hidden, as sweet things were her favorite too.

_Johnse_. He could kill him for sending her in here. Apparently Johnse had forgiven her for her outburst finally, weeks ago now. Will was enjoying being a hardworking man, until this stupid accident had happened. Maybe it was what he'd gotten for rubbing it in Johnse's face that Devil Anse had seen him fit to work a year younger than he'd allowed Johnse. He became so focused on cursing his brother that he forgot the cobbler until she put it on the edge of the open window, the smell wafting in. Will's stomach growled in anticipation.

"Thanks," he grunted shortly. He had seriously enjoyed that peach cobbler last time he'd had it, but Will was feeling self-conscious, in front of Libby especially, knowing the inevitable question he wasn't so eager to be asked would come sooner or later. For some reason, he dreaded her asking the most. He thought he looked monstrous, and didn't want her to see, _ever_. It had been days since the accident, and he'd successfully avoided the girl until today, though half the time had been spent at Doc Rutherford's infirmary, watching for infection.

Maybe it was the way she'd looked at him like the moon and the stars for some time now. All the progress he'd been trying to help her make had seemed to be working. There were times he could still see her old self, more so recently too. He was worried that would change now, for some reason. Will had gotten her up on his horse a few more times since the first, though they hadn't ventured outside yet. And she'd been coming to watch him shoot, her favorite thing it seemed lately, finding entertainment in challenging his skills, picking targets that seemed nearly impossible.

Welp, they would be impossible now. There was no way he'd be a dead shot like he had been before now, not with his stupid eye like _this_.

Libby stood unsurely, sad that he seemed so withdrawn. It was as though the moment her mother had died, she had transformed into a young woman, suddenly wise beyond her years, too old for games and playing. And when she had heard Johnse telling the story of how William had gotten his eye roughed up in a lumber accident, she knew the likeliness of Will keeping that eye was probably not very high. And seeing him here in front of her, in bed like a sickly boy, his spirit seemingly nonexistent, she knew he must have some to the same conclusion. He looked broken, like he didn't know what to do, and had no hopes of ever enjoying life again. Much like she had.

But _he_ was supposed to be _her_ rock, not the other way around.

Though her mind and body were highly developed, her heart was still twelve. Libby had really just began to take interest in boys seriously, and since the day he'd saved her from out in the wilderness like he had, she'd seen him in a completely unrealistic, heroic light. She wanted to marry him already, so he could protect her forever. In her mind, it was obvious who her future husband would be. Though he'd always fancied himself an outlaw, he was her hero, riding in on his valiant steed to save her life, the obvious damsel in distress. She'd read enough stories to know how these things happened. But now he looked worn, sad and defeated. A shell of the William Hatfield she believed herself to be in love with. And she didn't know what to do to fix it.

Licking her lips unsurely, Libby sat beside him, perched on the edge of his bed, his head turning reluctantly to look at her with his good eye. "You can't see outta it, can ya?" she inquired, knowing that must be the reason he was so unlike his usual self. Since he'd saved her, her presence had seemed to give him an air of confidence. But now it only seemed to be making him uncomfortable, the girl watching a he sunk down a little lower, pulling his sheets up to his chin.

"No. 't's goin' all milky," he grumbled shamefully. Shooting was his big talent. He loved the praise he received from his father and the other older males in his family when he'd score a buck from sixty yards or take a bird right out of the sky. Just like that though, it was all gone. He couldn't shoot like that with one eye. He just knew it.

The golden haired girl was quiet for a second before she asked her next question, cautiously. "Can I see?"

Libby saw how rigid his body went at her question and she briefly wondered if she should have just let him be as he only responded with silence. But finally, Will looked over at her after a long moment of staring at his hands. A bandage was wrapped around his head, protecting the damaged eye as it healed. He may as well get it over with now, right? She'd see it eventually.

Pulling the cotton up, he showed her the healing eye, clouded over, before he quickly concealed it once again and looked away. It was still red and angry looking, making his eye appear bloodshot in the spots where the white had not began to take over yet. Libby was sure his sight would most definitely not be returning once she saw the damage.

The light laugh that escaped from her lips sounded relieved though. "Oh. It ain't so bad to look at, y'know. Way you was actin', I was expectin' yer eye ta be hangin' out the socket."

Will tried to cover the small chuckle that pressed at his lips. It didn't take away from the fact that she still thought he was the most handsome boy she'd ever seen, even more so than Johnse and Ellison and even Devil Anse himself. "That there's the battle scar of a workin' man. Man who can provide for his wife an' children. Ain't no woman wouldn't want that. Way Johnse was sayin' you was bein', thought you'd be movin' up ta the mountains an' hidin' yer new disfigurement forever! Become a… cave hermit 'r somethin'! 'f yer eye goes white, ain't no one gonna care Will." He stopped a minute and absorbed her words. Libby hadn't even flinched at the sight of his eye, which meant she truthfully hadn't been bothered by the sight of it, because he'd seen her get sick at the simple smell of some things before. She wasn't known for having a strong stomach at all.

"Yeah?" he questioned her. She _was_ a woman, he supposed. A very young one, but she had him convinced with her words and the way she placed them. Of all the girls their age, she was already the tallest and her skinny figure was beginning to fill out faster than most of the other girls too. Everyone was always saying how pretty Libby was, how she would be a beauty to behold when she was of age, and have lines of men from all over asking for her hand. And even though she was less womanly than some of the other girls Will knew, being a bit younger, he would still agree in saying she was exceptionally nice to look at.

His only exposed eye surveyed her, watching as she blushed and looked away from him instead. "I'd marry you Will. I wouldn't care none, if'n you was ta ever ask."

Her words made him laugh, genuinely, for the first time since the accident actually. He leaned back against his headboard, looking much more relaxed than originally. "Shoot, my Pa'd just smack me upside the head 'f I asked him that. And yers too likely. Tell us we's too young."

She giggled, proud she'd made him happy though she'd been half serious. They _were_ too young; that she already knew would be the case for now. But one day they wouldn't be, and she wondered if he'd laugh then too. Her mind was already made up about him. She would be the one waiting for William. All she could do was pray he didn't find another before she was of age. "I ain't talkin' 'bout right now silly. But… when we're older."

"Older, huh? Reckon there'll be lotsa other men by the time we's older. Ain't gonna want no… cyclops." Sure, she could say she wanted to marry him now, but in three years or so, when they were old enough to start seriously considering the people they courted, she'd surely have some other guy who had a working eye chasing her around. Hell, even Johnse would probably be looking her way by then, the rate she was growing.

"Don't you ever say that again 'bout yerself William!" Her arms crossed over her chest angrily and she stood up to face him dead on. "Ain't no one been as kind to me and my Daddy as yer Pa and Mama, 'specially since my mama died. And you saved my life. You found me when I thought I was gonna die out there. Heck, you could probably kill a man an' I'd still marry ya Will."

Will's brow rose, a little stunned by her outburst and sheer rejection of his cynical joke. He knew women started thinking about that kind of serious stuff way sooner than men, but she already sounded so certain. Hell, she almost had him convinced! "Guess we'll see how ya feel when we's old enough," he resolved for now. He could argue more if he wanted to, the way he was feeling today, but there was no point.

"I'll feel the same," her small voice assured him as she shrugged a shoulder, absolutely positive in her assumption.

* * *

_Courthouse  
Pikeville, Kentucky, 1878_

A pig.

It was all over a pig.

Libby sat between her father and Jim Vance, the courtroom full of both Hatfields and McCoys, and friends of the families alike. Will was on the other side of his Uncle Jim, where he sat pouting, Robert E turned around in the bench before theirs, taunting his older brother as Jim tried to get a look at Will's eye, still covered by the bandage, though it had been almost two weeks now.

Libby hadn't really wanted to come. She was still a sad, quiet girl, but things had slowly been getting better, or maybe just easier. Somehow, Will's words had soothed her in a way no one else's were able to, and him having his own life-altering accident had made her stop feeling so sorry for herself, instead feeling more sorry for him, though she hadn't seen that much of the Hatfield boy since the day she'd brought him a baked treat.

When Wall Hatfield came up to preside over the trial, the courtroom silenced, except for Cotton Top who called out to the judge happily. Then the prosecution led by Perry Cline, began stating their case, rather dramatically, laying claim over a pig that wasn't even present for observation. Because it had already been eaten.

It seemed petty to Libby, that Randall McCoy would bring Floyd Hatfield to court over a pig that either was never his to begin with, or that wandered off into Floyd's territory. An utter waste of time. But alas, her father had insisted on coming, hoping he could cool the tensions that had been building between the two families that resided on either side of the Tug Fork, as he was friendly with Randall's family.

It was as if the entire thing was a big joke, from the way the Hatfields reacted to everything happening in the courtroom. And when Bill Staton lied through his teeth in order to further the Hatfield's case, Wall seemed to have had enough, trying to hurry the verdict along. Everyone knew Staton was a no good, lying, drunk, harmless as he may be.

But all hell broke loose when Selkirk McCoy sided with the Hatfields, whether he actually believed it to be Floyd's pig or not. He _did_ work for Devil Anse, after all, and maybe just didn't want his job to be in jeopardy. Randall fired off about honor, and Wall dismissed the case as the courtroom order was broken and Hatfields and McCoys hollered and hurled insults at one another, the situation threatening to get ugly.

Libby looked on, startled, finding herself standing against the wall, trying to get out of the crossfire, beside an older girl who must've been McCoy, blonde and shy looking, just as at a loss as Libby. Randall was right; this wasn't just about a pig. It was much deeper than that. This was turning into a full-blown family feud.

Libby caught sight of her own father, speaking words that intimidated Sam and Paris McCoy, but didn't quite have them running, not with their kin as backup. She could see Will even had thrown his hat in, two of the McCoy boys arguing back and forth with him, just before the loud firing of a pistol by Wall silenced everyone once again.

The whole scene was rather frightening, and as quickly as she could, Libby exited the courtroom with Ellison and Cotton, before finding her cross-looking father, and gluing herself to his side.

But it didn't last long. Her sense of adventure was coming back, and as Chet discussed the chaos of that trial with Devil Anse, Wall and Ellison, Libby wandered off in the direction she'd seen Johnse and Will headed, noting she wouldn't stray too far to find them, but hopeful that they were still in the area.

The Hatfield boys weren't whom she found though.

"Hey! Been a long while since the last time I seen you." A boy she distinctly recognized as one of Randall's sons, and one of the boys who'd been scrapping with Will, was the one to call over to her.

Pausing for a second and trying to decide whether or not she should answer, Libby reasoned that it couldn't do much harm. He could only be Johnse's age at the very most, and that boy was harmless as a fly.

Somehow, the kid had a charming smile, and flashed it at her, hopping off the back of the wagon he'd been perched on, likely waiting for his brothers, as she'd seen Randall and Sally leave with their daughters and younger sons earlier.

He was tall too, but not like Johnse and Will were tall. His hair was dark and hung almost in his moss colored eyes, much the opposite of the blonde haired and blue eyed Hatfields. She found herself flushing as he came up to her, grinning like some kind of fool at her reaction.

"Ain't gotta be shy. We ain't strangers really," the boy insisted, suddenly noticing how much more grown up she looked standing before him now years having passed since he'd seen her last. She stood with poise, clothed in a deep blue dress that brightened her guarded eyes and her cornsilk hair fell in waves down her back, some strands darker than others that had been lightened in the sun. She looked much more like a young woman to him now instead of a scared little girl, and this piqued his interest.

Libby looked unsurely at him, though a smile crept over her lips, attempts to suppress it obvious, unsure of how to reply to him. "Name's Calvin, 'care ya fergot," he reintroduced himself confidently.

She'd known she recognized him. It had been years since they'd met, back when she was much younger and her mother was still alive. She hadn't met many McCoys in her life, but somehow, even before he'd reminded her of who he was, she had known he was one of Randall's sons.

"McCoy?" Libby needed confirmation. Somehow, she felt that this whole thing was only about to escalate after that courtroom scene. It made sense, knowing whom she should steer clear of. Will had told her more than once, McCoys only cause trouble.

"Yeah, McCoy. Ain't a problem, is it?" And Libby really stopped and thought about that question. Was it a problem? She wasn't quite sure. But whatever was going on, it didn't make the McCoys sound too great, the things being said by the Hatfields, who were basically family to her.

"I dunno." The boy was right near her now, standing tall just like both Will and Johnse. But his face gave his youth away, boyish and bright eyed.

"You ain't no Hatfield, y'know. Ain't gotta hate me just 'cause they do. My Pa might not like ol' Devil Anse, but he still got respect fer yer daddy. Saved each others' lives in the war, y'know. More 'an once."

Again, Calvin smiled at her, eyes squinting as he did, noticing her interest pick up. "What was yer name again, anyhow?" It was like déjà vu, only they were both older now, and this time, Libby noticed that she thought he was by far the best looking of Randall's children.

"It's Elizabeth." She hesitated, wondering if she should even be speaking to him. He really was no better than a stranger even if they had met in the past. But, there was something so soft and inviting about his eyes, she continued to speak despite herself. "But ya can call me Libby… I s'ppose." Somehow, she was a bit insulted he didn't remember her name, though she hadn't any recollection of his either, other than his surname.

Calvin McCoy had never met such a proper looking little thing, in her fine dress and hair done up. She even smelled lovely, some kind of perfume wafting towards him in the light breeze. And though he was sure she must be a few years younger than him, he thought she was pretty, much prettier than the cousin his father had probably already picked out for him to marry.

All along, he knew her name. He'd heard about the horrible attack that claimed her mother's life; he'd have to have lived underneath a rock the past months not to. He'd heard she 'd been lost out in the woods too, and found by the Hatfields. He even knew what a frigid little witch everyone had been calling her after she'd had a fit in town one morning following her mother's death, witnessed by Tolbert, who'd cruelly found it amusing. But Calvin decided not to let her know that, any of it. He thought it might not be the best topic to bring up. And right now, he had her alone, no Hatfields in her shadow. Or worse maybe, Savage Chet.

"That's right, Miss Libby! Kept thinkin' Lily, 'r Rose… 'r some kinda flower." Finding that at this very moment, she kind of liked this McCoy boy, relaxing a bit amongst a basic stranger for the first time since the attack, she perched against a nearby hitch post, watching him both curiously and questionably.

"A flower? Why's that?" She'd never pictured herself as a 'Lily' or a 'Rose'. She'd always just been little Libby Sawyer, untouchable by Hatfield law, nose buried in a book or up in the air, a terrified sadness in her eyes that never seemed to quite disappear nowadays.

"On account a ya bein' so pretty." His voice was so certain, like she should have already known the answer. It sounded like something Johnse would say to a girl, only not so much of a lie coming from Calvin's mouth.

Libby felt her cheeks grow warm as a flush crawled up her neck, her eyes immediately snapping down to her hands, away from his gaze, though she heard him chuckle… right before he swore.

"Damn." His cussing made her look up and over her shoulder, where she saw a less than pleased looking brother of his marching over, the other one who'd been fighting with Will in the courtroom. "I gotta go. Tolbert… he ain't too keen on Hatfields… an' friends."

Calvin gave her an apologetic look before he figuratively offered his hand in some kind of friendship. "Maybe I'll see ya by the river sometime." The crooked smile he flashed her pulled her own lips into a shy smirk, lashes batting as she avoided his eyes.

"Maybe," she breathed out, wondering why she felt so giddy and nervous. Likely because she'd never really been flirted with before, and to have an older boy send her those types of grins and say such sickly sweet things was making her feel all giggly inside.

"Bye Miss Libby," he whispered as Tolbert approached, rushing back to the wagon and hopping on. As his older brother passed her by, flanked by Pharmer, who Libby knew since he had said some nasty things about her in front of Johnse and Will not all that long ago, which was stupid on his part, earning the McCoy nothing more than a punch in the nose from Will.

Both boys sent her sour looks as they bypassed her and went to wait for their eldest brother to rerun to the wagon and take them back over the river. The girl watched as Tolbert had some harsh words with his younger brother, Calvin just looking bored and rolling his eyes, chancing a look back at Libby that earned him a smack upside the head from the eldest present McCoy boy.

But not a second later, she heard her own name being called by none other than the boy she'd been looking for in the first place, and immediately went on her way back to the front of the courthouse.

"Go with the boys, Libby. I'll be around later ta bring ya home," her father said, and obediently, she climbed into the wagon with Johnse, Will, Cotton and Robert E while Levicy and Ellison sat up front to steer.

Libby caught Will watching her with his good eye, brow furrowed as he stared, as if something was troubling him. "What were ya doin' back there with them McCoys?" Will questioned her flatly, as if he were suspicious.

"Nothin', I was lookin' for ya." She didn't know why she lied. Somehow, talking to Calvin McCoy seemed as though it might be a bad thing though, somehow, someway. So she withheld that information for him. Libby couldn't handle Will being mad at her for it. It would devastate the girl. And for some reason, she felt he would be.

* * *

_Mate Creek  
Mingo County, West Virginia, 1878_

The next morning, Bill Staton was dead, and both Paris and Sam McCoy were nowhere to be found.

Libby knew this because she'd been brought over to the Hatfield's home early on account of her father riding out with Devil Anse as he and his kin went out hunting two certain McCoys who were the obvious culprits. There had been an altercation at the tavern following the pig trial involving the two and Staton, and the outcome was now obvious.

Libby had never really been allowed around Bill Staton, for he was known to be drunk and foul and nothing a father would want his young daughter around. But from what she'd heard Skunkhair saying this morning when he'd come looking for Savage Chet, it sounded as though Bill had been murdered rather harshly, for nothing more than words exchanged.

Libby felt pity as she rode in the wagon with Levicy, Robert E, Nancy and the three younger children, on their way into town to pick up some needed items, and also likely catch wind of the status of the search party for Paris and Sam. Levicy's belly was well swollen with another child now, so Libby was more exhausted than ever, having to work extra hard to help out along with Nancy, who was only a year younger than she and Robert E.

Will was out alongside her father and his, riding with the search party, rifle at the ready if Sam and Paris McCoy decided to fight. Though that was unlikely, with Devil Anse at the head. The young McCoys all talked a big game, but when it came down to the nitty gritty of it all, they trembled in their boots at the sight of Devil Anse.

In the past two weeks, Libby had started to realize she and Will were growing apart, not by any intention though it seemed. They were no longer being looked upon as children though, designated and expected to keep the company of their respective genders at this stage in their lives. She found herself plagued with wonderment, considering how long thier distance would last, or whether it would even progress. Though, she knew it would, if not by their choice, by the choice of their elders. There came a time where it was no longer appropriate for girls and boys to be left to their own devices together. And the pit of her stomach wouldn't let her forget that time seemed to be creeping upon them.

"Libby, you take this basket here and go on with Rob an' Nancy ta get some sewin' needles and some spools. Black, blue and green. An' we need a bag of flour from the miller. Meet me at the cart when you're finished. An' don't dawdle!" Nodding curtly, the three eldest children walked off in the direction of the miller, Levicy seemingly instantly caught up in a conversation with the schoolteacher, as she kept tabs astonishingly well on the three smaller children.

"A flash of flaming red hair underneath a white bonnet caught Libby's attention quickly though, and they paused in their journey when the girl came to a stop and began waving her hand. "Mariah!"

"Why are you calling _her_ over here?!" Rob hissed, causing Libby to put her hand down and look to her friend peculiarly.

"Why not?" she questioned, though she didn't await an answer, instead just meeting the girl halfway, Nancy tailing her, and Rob keeping back, shuffling his feet into the dirt disinterestedly and watching the dust he kicked up. "How's things been?"

"Well Libby. How 'bout yerself?" The slight girl had a nose dusted in freckles and the bluest eyes Libby had ever seen, long sandy colored lashes framing them. Mariah was one of the few non-family members who accepted Cotton for who he was, and was kind and playful with him, instead of cruel and deceitful to the slow boy, which was how most kids their age tended to react to him when none of the bigger Hatfields were around.

"Well as they can be, I s'pose," Libby admitted, offering a weak smile. Mariah was one of the few girls around that liked Libby, many having an envious attitude towards the Sawyer girl most of her life, seeing as she was privileged and favored by the Hatfields.

"Hi there Nancy," Mariah politely greeted, the shty girl a step behind Libby, smiling quetly in greeting. Mariah's eyes then traveled over the two girls' shoulders and to Robert E. "Ain't even gonna say hi ta me, Robert E?"

He looked started, being called out like that, Libby and Nancy both snickering at his expense, before he reluctantly made his way over to the group of young women, grumbling something under his breath and rolling his eyes as he met them.

"Hi Mariah. Nice seein' you. But we gotta be goin'." All at once though, the children turned their attention to the courthouse, seeing a group of Hatfields gathering on the front porch and the McCoy's hastily approaching down the dirt road, Randall driving a cart and a few others flanking him on horses.

"Looks like Pa's brung 'em back!" Robert E noticed as he craned his neck to see the crowd near the jail that was rapidly gathering. "Yeah! There's Cap an' Uncle Jim! Uncle Ellison too! Let's go!"

Rob was eager to know if Paris and Sam had been sentenced yet, as was Libby. She couldn't keep up with the Hatfield boy though, trailing behind and stepping up to the crowd just in time to see an altercation between Tolbert McCoy and Jim Vance, Will standing right nearby his uncle, eye no longer covered by the white gauze that had once concealed his permanent injury.

Though she missed the words exchanged, she saw Jim spit at Tolbert's feet, just before the boy stormed past him, Will and Uncle Jim chuckling in his tow as he stormed off, being mocked with chicken sounds, aiming to come right past where Libby stood with Mariah and Nancy.

"Things 're gettin' wild between them McCoys an' you Hatfields, don't it seem?" Mariah whispered to Libby, who nodded in agreement, eyes watching carefully to see what would happen now, not even realizing the girl had grouped her father and Libby herself within the Hatfield clan, something that would have pleased Libby under different circumstances. But she would be willing to withstand a little hatred if it meant she stood side by side with Hatfields anyway.

She saw the pointed look Tolbert gave her as he passed by furiously, eyes focusing on Libby harshly before he slapped the basket she was holding and continued on, an outraged gasp slipping though her lips, the automatic response to his uncalled for hostility in her direction. The girl's heart jumped and for a second, she had to reconsider if what had just happened was reality.

Though Will had been smug at Tolbert's expense before, he suddenly found the situation much less amusing when he saw that, and went to charge the older boy from behind for disrespecting Libby in public like that. However, he was swiftly grabbed by his uncles and restrained.

"Hang back boy. Ain't worth the fight. She in't hurt none," Ellison assured his nephew. Jim would've let the boy go, truthfully. Tolbert derserved a good ass whopping, coming at him that way, and he'd love to see his favorite great nephew do the job One he was confident the roughneck teenager could accomplish. Cap's frustration only grew though as he saw who went to her aid immediately while he was being calmed down, theoretically anyway.

"Christ," Calvin McCoy hissed, jumping off his horse and jogging the few paces over to where Elizabeth stood, looking quite stunned by his own brother's actions. "You all right?"

Blinking just a few times in Tolbert's direction, she watched as he perched against a building a little bit away, glaring at the scene outside of the jail, where both families were gathered, awaiting the outcome of the Bill Station murder, seeing as Paris and Sam were in there, locked up with his corpse. Libby's face soured before she turned away and instead faced the soft, boyish face of his younger brother, who seemed to be genuinely concerned and embarrassed by his sibling.

"I s;ppose. Ain't never had a man strike a hand at me in my life is all," Libby explained, most certainly meaning for it to sound severe as it did.

"I'm sorry 'bout Tolbert, Miss Libby. Ain't sure what his problem is. Never am," Calvin chuckled nervously, thinking he may not be in good graces with the girl anymore now that his bother had acted like such a bull-headed fool. "I'll make sure he gets straightened out when we's home later."

Their interaction was abruptly cut off as the shadow of Will Hatfield loomed over them both, catching the attention of the two and distracting them from the topic.

"Best tell your brother he e'er does somethin' smart like that again, he's gonna be dead as Bill Staton," Will threatened darkly, eyes cut at Calvin, who was visibly put off by Will's white eye. "C'mon Lib. I'll take ya home." His mismatched eyes never wavered from Calvin's as he spoke, even to her.

"I ain't done gettin' stuff fer yer mama yet," Libby insisted truthfully, not fully aware that Will was just trying to get her away from Calvin for some reason. Probably none other than he was McCoy. She did detect the uneasiness in the air though, the pure tension, and was confused as to why the actions of other family members seemed to be plaguing even the children of the two families.

Despite what all the Hatfields might say or think, some much harsher and vocal with their opinions of McCoys than others, her father had yet to say a bad word about Randall McCoy, so she was more unbiased. Although Tolbert had made it onto her list of people she wasn't fond of, especially now.

"Well, where we goin' then?" Will questioned, not even looking at her, instead right past her and at Calvin. They locked eyes for a moment longer, Libby glancing between the two of them uncomfortably, trying to figure out exactly what was about to happen. She was worried there would be a fight; it was the feeling that had settled around the entire courthouse. She felt Nancy grip the back of her skirt tightly, apparently as aware as Libby was.

"Um… the miller," Libby hesitantly answered, eyes trying to make sure no one flinched. Young men with guns were nearly always stupid, and with the way the two looked at one another, it was clear this was some kind of intimidation tactic, or challenge.

Uncle Jim and Ellison both looked on carefully, watching the young boys have a silent contest for dominance, as did Calvin's brothers, Jim, Bud and Pharmer. Both parties awaited anyone making a wrong move, but before anyone could do anything else at all, Sam and Paris came thundering out of the courthouse in celebration of their apparent freedom, calling Calvin over to tell him the good news. He hesitated a second, glancing at Libby, but seeing as Cap Hatfield was right there, trying to get her out of here like wildfire was spreading, Calvin shrugged a shoulder at Libby and climbed over the cart and to his cousins to celebrate with them.

Will put a hand on Libby's shoulder to usher her in the direction of his uncles and let them know he'd be bringing Libby over to run her errands and meet them back here, because he sure as hell wasn't letting her walk around on her own with all these McCoys running the street. Especially since Robert E had disappeared somewhere in the crowd with Mariah Wolford, despite his façade of disinterest in the girl. Nancy tagged along behind Libby, watching her brother drag her around, a possessive hand on her back, eyes flickering to any McCoy who dared look in their direction.

"Ain't no place for you girls here. Go on an' git," Jim told them as they approached, Devil Anse and Savage Chet both exiting the courtroom as Randall exchanged words with them, Perry Cline by his side, and Wall trailing the lot of them, looking on disapprovingly.

"A murder is a murder, Ran'all." Chet seemed to be defending Anse's desire for punishment, and their reasoning for collecting the two McCoys and bringing them here, expecting justice to be served.

"No one cared ta call it a murder, when Jim Vance kilt my brother in cold blood!" Randall argued back, his family members shouting out in agreement.

Libby was captivated by the argument, Ellison noticing and quickly telling William he needed to take the girls elsewhere, sooner rather than later.

"C'mon. Said you gotta go ta the miller, so let's go," William interrupted, moving in front of her so she could no longer see her father over his hat. Both girls struggled to look around him as he moved them farther and farther away from the commotion.

"Is Uncle Chet fightin' with Ran'all McCoy now too?" Nancy questioned, though it was unanswered, much to Libby's disdain. She would have liked the answer to that as well. From the looks she had seen her father and Devil Anse giving Randall, it seemed neither one of them was in the older man's good graces anymore.

"You'll be warm in hell with Hatfields, Chester. I'll pray for your daughter's soul. An' yer late wife's," Randall hissed, no longer calling him Chet as his friends often did. The peaceful ties between the Sawyers and McCoys were now severed, with those simple words spewed hatefully by Randall McCoy.

"Don't you dare speak about mine!" Chet was held back by Ellison and Anse, though hardly, being a big man and still strong as an ox, even after the war.

Libby looked on horrified, Cap seeing this as a reason to practically drag her and his sister away. She'd never seen her father like that and it was startling. Chet had done a good job of hiding the savage part from his daughter's eyes, but he let no man disrespect him, certainly not in front of all these people. And to be fair, he hadn't realized his daughter was present with all the commotion and the sizable crowd that was gathered around. Some congratulated Sam and Paris while others looked sour about the outcome, Anse and his brothers calming Chet down as Randall told his nephews and sons to get back to their mounts or on the cart.

The McCoy patriarch spit at the feet of Libby's father as a final nail in the coffin of their expired friendship before he climbed up to the driving seat, Perry Cline looking smug beside him, though for once he seemed to have no words.

It seemed Sawyer really was as good as Hatfield suddenly.

"Quit draggin' yer feet now. Ain't nothin' for ya ta see back there," Will ordered his friend and his sister as he ushered them off, but Libby couldn't help but look over her shoulder worriedly, the animosity building up nerve wracking. She knew her father could handle himself; he wasn't given the name Savage for nothing, and with Devil Anse and Ellison both back there, she was certain things couldn't possibly get too out of hand. But she couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that seemed to be closing in on her and those around her as well.

Libby didn't miss the longing and remorseful look Calvin McCoy gave her, as if he thought he might never see her again all of a sudden. A look to which she had no idea how to react. The thought of never seeing Calvin McCoy again hadn't ever even crossed her mind, He wasn't a significant part of it really, so why would she have ever worried about something like that? But now that the idea had occurred to her, somehow she felt it wasn't something she was necessarily content with. Despite being Randall's son, and maybe worse, Tolbert's brother, Calvin had always been exceedingly kind of Libby, always seeming to actually want to speak to her.

When they finally got over to the mill, the jail now hidden behind the post office, the sound of horses moving away and down the road signifying that the McCoys had left before things got ugly. Will shoved some of his own money into his sister's hand and sent Nancy in to make the purchase. Then he turned to the blonde girl and for some reason, Libby felt a small wave of dread washing over her.

"You like Calvin McCoy 'r somethin'?" She thought Will must've been stupid to ask such a dumb question, when the whole family knew she had been entranced with him for quite some time now.

"Why would you even ask me somethin' so dumb?" She adjusted the cap on her head, tucking some of her hair behind her ear, as it had fallen from the tie.

"Cause that ain't the first time I seen you talkin' with him, all smilin' and stuff." He sounded like he was trying and failing to cover the fact he was pissing mad over his own assumptions. "He ain't even funny. An' he's too old fer ya anyhow."

"Pretty sure you know I ain't never liked no one else but you Will." She had a great confidence in her beauty, given how everyone around her constantly complimented it, which made her self-assured even this early on in life, especially when it came to putting her feelings for William out on display. She knew the men in their families constantly teased him abut how she vied for his attention sometimes, even going to extremes like falling into the creek, or fake twisting her ankle. And she knew he wasn't really daft enough to think that had changed overnight.

His expression seemed to soften with her open admission, but he couldn't just forget that she didn't seem to understand the importance of keeping away from McCoys right now. "Thought I told ya not ta be gettin' too friendly with any McCoys." Will's voice was stern, feeling if she truly felt that way, she'd better get used to listening to what he told her to do. And this was something he thought was pretty important. Especially since it didn't matter how Libby felt alone, but either way Calvin was most definitely keeping his eye on her for some reason, as Uncle Jim had so kindly pointed out. And there was no reason Cap could come up with for Calvin taking such a special interest in Libby that he liked.

"We ain't friends, not really," Libby clarified. It was only one of the first times she had ever spoken to Calvin, each time brief and just playful small talk. Though she would be lying if she said she didn't sort of blush when he smiled at her. But she was more than certain that Will was her soul mate, so other boys really just didn't matter. She had prepared herself for one true love since she was a little girl, and truly believed she'd already found it.

"Good. Keep it that way, why dontchya?" It was more of a command than a suggestion, which made Libby's brow plummet with both irritation and confusion. She'd noticed he'd started to be rather bossy with her lately, ever since the day of the pig trial, and the behavior was starting to annoy her.

"You ain't my daddy, Will," Libby snapped, showing her fire as she gave him a pointed glare.

"No, I ain't, But yer pap told me ta look out for ya, so that's what I'm doin'. An' I'm sayin' you best leave Calvin McCoy be, 'fore alla this gets worse an' gets him in trouble." Libby clenched her teeth in protest, not knowing how to respond to that. Will didn't lie to her often that she knew of, so perhaps her father really had asked him to commit to such a task. She didn't see what real harm talking back and forth with Calvin could really cause anyway though.

"Why's he gonna be in trouble?" she demanded, picking at William's response any way she could, her agitation urging her to argue. "He ain't done nothin' but talk nicely with me an' apologize fer his brother."

"Think anyone's gonna be happy if you go off with a McCoy now that all this' goin' on? We'll haveta kill him if he tries ta touch on ya! McCoys don't like us. An' I'm really startin' ta hate them. Didn't ya see? Even yer pap's fed up with 'em, stirrin' up trouble all the time." She just didn't get it, as far as Will was concerned. He didn't want to see her getting in the middle of any of the trouble, and he especially didn't want any of those McCoys thinking they could stick their claws into Libby while she was still young, cause he knew they all wanted to.

"Will! We was just talkin'! Are you listenin' ta yeraelf? I ain't even thirteen yet!" She couldn't believe the irrationality behind his possessiveness, throwing her arms out at her sides with exasperation.

"Jus'… do what I say, okay? Keep away from him Lib. I ain't never asked much a ya. I'm tryin' ta be yer friend. When I tell ya ain't no good gonna come a you two bein'… _friends_ 'r whatnot, I mean it. Think I'm sayin' it fer his sake? I'm warnin' you cause I don't trust no McCoy with ya, got it? I ain't gonna let 'em close enough ta ever hurt ya 'r take advantage of ya. Let Calvin McCoy go an' make friends somewhere else." Truthfully, jealousy was boiling in the pit of Will's stomach. He didn't like the idea of any McCoy boy, or non- McCoy boy for that matter, trying to be friendly with her.

The girl's hostile attitude melted away when Will showed such utter concern for her like this, so she sassed him no more on the topic. "I s'pose. Sounds like yer just bein' jealous ta me though." She couldn't help the last part, knowing it probably made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle just a bit.

Will scoffed as though there was no way that was the case, though it most certainly was the main source of the flame inside of him right now. "Yer like my sister Lib. I ain't gonna let you get in no trouble, a'right? I got my reasons fer keepin' ya clear a that kid."

His words touched her, laced with emotion he hadn't shown since his accident. He wouldn't say anything "Yeah," she breathed back, a flush running up her neck and her palms sweating. "I know. But I promise, I ain't never met him nowhere other than on accident here in town or nothin'." It wasn't as though she were actively seeking him out or anything. There meetings had all been by chance, and not once had Libby been the one to initiate conversation, but perhaps that was what worried Will.

"I believe ya Lib. Yer a good girl. I know that. We all do. This's jus'… how it's gonna be, buncha men in yer family like you got. We don't want no dogs lik Johns sniffin' 'round ya. An' I don't turst none a Ol' Ran'all's kids." As far as Will was concerned, there would be no one 'sniffing' around Libby like that if he had anything to say about it.

Libby stared at Will, wanting to be mad at him for making such assumptions about boys they hardly knew, but as it was this particular Hatfield boy, she was unable to ignore how truly sweet his concern for her was. It far overshadowed the former, and in response, she leapt up onto the tips of her toes and pressed her mouth to the corner of his lips, quite boldly, this not being the first time she'd wanted to kiss the boy in front of her before, _really_ kiss him, that is.

Something about William drew a certain confidence out of her she had never felt with anyone else she knew. He was indeed the best friend she had ever had, despite some trials and petty tribulations along the way in their short lives thus far. There wasn't a soul on earth she trusted more, saving her life weighing heavily in on that opinion of him. And even though he made her uncomfortable in many ways, she was most herself with him.

"Will! I need yer help!" Nancy squealed, making both adolescents jump away from one another and whip their heads in her direction. Nancy had the bag of flour covering almost her whole upper half as she tried desperately not to drop it. Will rushed over to his younger sister, effortlessly taking the load from her and relieving her of the burder. But Libby couldn't help but giggle hen she saw how the wfite powder seemed to have dusted the younger girl, almost entirely.

"It's a good thing you wore your cap, see? Or it'd be your hair all white too!" Libby had argued with her for ten minutes today about putting her cap on before they left the house.

"Huh?" Nancy questioned, unaware she was covered in flour.

"Ya look like a damn snowman, Nance," Will laughed along, before leading the way back to his family's cart, both girls following after him obediently.

* * *

_Hatfield Cabin  
Logan, West Virginia, 1878_

Days passed and Libby barely saw Will though she was continuously in his house half of the time she was conscious. When he was home, he was in and out so quick she barely had a chance to say hello. He'd returned back to work quick as Devil Anse would allow after his eye healed, and disappeared outside with his gun seconds after returning from the timber yard, scarfing his dinner down, if he even bothered with it. She learned he often went out with Skunkhair and Alex Messer instead of hanging around with his brothers as of late too, and much to Libby's dismay, Uncle Jim.

Now that Libby had finished helping Levicy with dinner, she'd been sent to fetch the boys. Johnse had been simple, right outside in a paddock, riding one the young stallions bareback like a fool, his mother hollering at him for it and sending Libby off to find Will while she dealt with Johnse, Rob close by enough to hear the scolding his oldest brother was getting from in the barn, popping his head out to snicker.

Libby hadn't been sure where to find the William until she heard the crack of his gun and followed it around the house and across the backfield. Sure enough he was there, looking frustrated as he aimed his rifle at some old bottomed out buckets and rusty cans set up on the fence posts.

"William? Yer mama's callin' ya fer supper." Will swore as Libby's voice broke his concentration and started him just as he pulled the trigger, missing the targeted can he'd been trying helplessly to shoot for the past half hour, the stray bullet shaving some bark off a nearby tree instead. It was pathetic. He'd been such a dead shot before the splinter, and now with his stupid eye all messed up, he couldn't aim his gun right for shit.

"Already told ya, iIt's Cap now. An' I ain't hungry, so go on an' tell her," he snapped irritably, moving from his previous position and messing with the sights, Libby watching him with raised brows, startled by his rigid and dismissive behavior towards her. He'd been so soft on the girl since she'd gone through her ordeal, and now he could barely be bothered to look in her direction since the day she'd laid that small kiss on him. He was being very testy with her, which had become uncharacteristic since the night he'd saved her out in the woods. Maybe it was because of his age, or maybe it was because he was uncomfortable with what she'd done, gone a messed it up somehow by kissing on him. Because before that, he was happy to be around her most of the time, treating her as though they were the closest of friends. But maybe that time in their lives was over.

Truthfully, it was deeper than that. Will didn't feel like a kid anymore either; Libby wasn't alone, he understood what it was like to feel too grown up now. They'd outgrown their interest in the tales of Jesse James, both full of angst and disdain for the challenges they'd unfortunately been faced with now instead, both focused on the responsibilities they were expected to uphold at their current ages. His injury had made him harder, less apt to smile and laugh, less interested in playing and nonsense. And though it hadn't been all that long of a time period since it happened, it had made a huge difference in William's personality. Especially seeing as his shooting had been off since his eye went white.

Libby guessed his temper might have been due to the fact this wasn't the first time he'd gone shooting since his eye had capped over, his short temper with her presence a clear indicator that situation hadn't improved any even before she'd come looking for him. Knowing how difficult she had been though, she ignored it, and instead addressed his request to be called by his apparent nickname.

"How'm I s'posed ta start callin' ya Cap when I been callin' ya Will my whole life?" she wondered, weary of the change in him. He'd become harder, the sweetness his boyish face once held practically gone now, replaced with the angles and troubled gaze of a burdened young man.

"Cause, I said so." His answer was short as he did his best to ignore her, though she didn't take the hint and leave as he'd hoped she would. He just wanted to be alone. He wanted to scream, and shout and punch things, but he wouldn't do it in front of her, so he just grit his teeth as he hoped she'd be on her way. "Now git on outta here. Yer bein' a pest," he snapped short-temperedly, instantly regretting it the minute he said it, but not making any move to apologize.

Though she couldn't help being stung by his name calling, she did her best to push past it and force her acceptance upon him, the way he had her. "You don't mean that," Libby corrected him, voice almost certain.

Inside, she worried if kissing him had negatively impacted their relationship, the fear of that possibility one she didn't want to face. In her mind, she would marry him when she was old enough. But she didn't know what he thought of that. He had told her she was like a sister to him, and if that were truly the case… well, it would devastate her.

Cap faced her, wondering why that couldn't just be enough to make her leave. He didn't want to be nasty to her, but he would be harsh if he had to be. She needed to know when to give him space. "Go on! I said git!"

If their families weren't so close, he knew it would be considered highly inappropriate for a boy his age and a girl her age to be off alone where no related eyes could supervise. Until a few days ago, it hadn't been a big deal, but now, it was. Their parents maybe didn't realize their closeness as children would only lead to inevitable feelings for one another, age be damned. Libby had crossed a line in their relationship that Will wasn't sure they could go back from now that the cards were on the table like that. When he thought about the kind of man he wanted to be, it always came down to being the kind of man who could take care of a delicate girl like Libby. And if either of their parents found out she'd kissed him, he knew that she'd be kept away from him forcefully until they were old enough to court. But that would be years and he couldn't live without her in his life consistently for that long.

It would happen inevitably, he knew that. There would be a point where she no longer was allowed to run off with him and his brothers and play, but he hadn't realized how quickly it had approached. The best option seemed to be to put distance between them now that he knew she was looking at him romantically for certain, before they weren't even allowed to just be friends. They both had years before marrying was even an option.

"Why are ya bein' so short with me. I didn't do nothin'…." Libby wondered if maybe he was still cross about Calvin McCoy. She also wondered if maybe he was angry she'd kissed him, but she quickly pushed that idea aside. She didn't even want to consider that William might not reciprocate her feelings. It would destroy her, even though she wasn't old enough to know what it was to love a man in every sense of the word.

Had he not been in a stale mood as it was, Will might have been kinder about the whole situation, rationally explained it even. But since he couldn't hit his mark any time he fired his Winchester since his eye went white, he was already fired up inside, and poor Elizabeth was about to have all his frustrations unleashed on her.

"Leave me alone till I come lookin' for ya, understand? Stupid girl." He couldn't even be bothered to make eye contact with her as he growled at the blonde girl, her face scrunching in confusion. The way he was being broke her, and she couldn't hold back her absolute disgust at the way he was talking to her. How could he not know saying something like that would break her heart? Balling her fists in her skirts, she resisted the urge to smack him upside his head, instead using her own harsh words to inform him she wouldn't just stand here and have his anger taken out on her.

"Well fine _Cap_! Hope you have a nice time broodin' by yerself, cause I ain't gonna sit here an' be talked ta like that fer no reason! 'Scuse me fer tryin' ta make sure ya don't go hungry feelin' sorry fer yerself." She was warning him really, this being her threat that she would leave if he didn't apologize for being so unnecessarily mean. All she'd been doing was trying to help him since his accident, and now he was being plain rotten to her out of nowhere.

"Fine! Go! Don't wantchya here anyhow! Think I need some dumb girl around tryin' ta kiss on me? I'm busy! Too busy ta play house with _you_!" he hissed nastily, annoyed by her idle threats. He wasn't going to beg her to stay here with him. He'd rather be alone to do exactly as she'd said, brood. And Libby, well, she was just a distraction he didn't need right now while he was trying his best to fix his shooting. He was worried about that problem. He hadn't even started to think about the problems he now had with Libby, and how he was going to handle them.

But he couldn't turn off his ears, so he didn't miss the sob she choked on, trying to hide the fact she had been wounded by his behavior.

Will was afraid to look at her now. Like the simple turn of a page, he suddenly realized what an outright prick he was being, and instantly regretted his words, all of them. He was sure those big honey colored eyes had filled with tears at the harshness and his unusually dismissive attitude towards her, but he didn't want to apologize right now, and he just wanted her to go. So he kept his eyes away, knowing he'd break if he actually saw the tears.

"Horse's ass!" The boy couldn't help but move his eyes to her when she said that, looking straight up just in time to see her storm away, startled by her foul language, and even more so to hear it directed at him. She'd always been such a proper girl; he'd certainly never heard her curse before today.

The guilt flooding him and he scrambled to his feet, catching up to her easily with his long legs, snatching her by the wrist to stop her, but she ripped away from his grip. "Stop, Libby! Damn it! I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry!"

The girl spun around, the hot tears streaming down her cheeks as she blatantly tried to restrain them. "I ain't done nothin' ta deserve any a' that, William." Then her face went sour. "I mean _Cap_. Got a new personality ta go with yer new name? 'Cause I ain't impressed." She spat the words out distastefully, not knowing what she could say to wound him like he'd done her, her small hands pushing at his chest to get him away from her, though it made no difference since he was much stronger than she would ever be.

"No Libby. I'm just mad, is all. Didn't mean ta take it out on ya." Will sighed, hoping it was a good enough reason for her to just forgive him and pretend it didn't happen. He hadn't truly meant anything he'd said. In fact, her kissing on him had only made him want to see her more often, though he'd done well fighting off the desire.

"Then why you been avoidin' me, like a pox 'r somethin'?" Libby angrily bit back, voice more of a hiss than a yell, though she felt like screaming at him right now. "I jus' wanna help ya. Like you helped me. Goin' on three days since ya ate supper with e'ryone."

When her voice softened like that, he knew he'd won the battle and she'd forgive him, so he was able to relax more now. "Really think I helped ya?"

How could he not know he had been the main reason she'd seen fit to get dressed most mornings after her mother died? "I ain't cryin' every day no more, am I?"

The tall boy shrugged a shoulder uncertainly. "So ya say."

"Well, I ain't! Not e'ry day, anyways." Though she still found herself in tears a few times in the week, she had learned to deal with the loss of her mother, though it wasn't always easy. "nd today don't count. 'Cause it's yer fault I was cryin', not 'cause 'a my mama."

"C'mon Lib, I already said I was sorry," Will groaned, afraid she wouldn't let this incident go. But with all the crap he'd tolerated from her, bad attitudes and mental breakdowns alike, she couldn't hold this one thing against him. "I can't shoot no more. Can't hit... _nothin'_. 't's so different, only bein' able ta see outta the one eye. Threw my aim completely… off. Dunno how ta fix it." She watched the discouraged boy kick at the dirt, head hung, disappointed in himself, losing the one skill he had such a natural ability for. And though Libby knew she was helpless to actually fix his problem, she knew he'd felt the same way, and somehow she'd managed to learn to deal with the loss of her mother.

"Just keep tryin', I s'pose. Don't think losin' one eye can just wipe away all that talent ya had for it. You'll figure it out. Ain't like ya lost both eyes." He didn't think she really grasped the difficulty that came with the sudden debilitation of a sense, but he appreciated her confidence. It almost fooled him into believing he could fix it just by trying, like she'd said.

"Yeah… maybe yer right." Will looked thoughtful, as though he were concentrating real hard on adjusting his rifle and aiming at one of the smaller targets once again. This time, he was determined not to miss.

The sudden bang made Libby jump, though she'd been anticipating it, echoing through the hills and knocking the can clear off it's post, the sound of the bullet hitting the metal ringing through the surrounding trees and hills, a small flock of disturbed birds flying off as they cawed through the clouded sky.

"Well damn Libby! Always knew you was my lucky charm somehow." Will looked over his shoulder at her, smiling a broad smile she hadn't seen surely since his eye had been damaged. The feelings of discouragement suddenly had washed away within him, and he now was eager to keep firing his gun, instead of dreading the aftermath of pulling the trigger.

The comment made her cheeks flush and her neck get hot, watching as he reloaded his rifle twice more, hitting both marks equally as perfectly as the first, just to be sure it wasn't a fluke.

* * *

_Hatfield Farm _  
_Logan, West Virginia, 1878_

"Ya ain't gotta be scared. Yer _fine_!" Cap insisted as Libby sat atop his horse, looking scared out of her godforsaken mind. The animal could tell too, though he was usually well behaved. He looked extra alert at the moment, well aware of the trembling girl atop him, feet dancing around with worry.

The deal had been, if Cap could shoot one of the blackbirds clear out of the sky from almost sixty yards away, Libby would finally get on his horse outside of the barn stall. The white of her face made him well aware she'd been hoping he'd miss, but when the black ball of feathers plummeted lifelessly to the ground, she knew she was locked in.

"Kick him!" he hollered to her as he watched her sit atop the massive animal, eyes big as saucers and glossy with restrained tears. It was the last time she would ever challenge his shooting, that was for certain. She'd gotten herself into a fine mess, thinking he couldn't shoot that bird out of the sky.

"No Cap! He's gonna dump me!" Each muscle the horse moved had Libby gasping and clutching on the reins, and his mane, for dear life.

"You e'er see that horse drop _me_?" Pistol was as broke as they came, never so much as batting an eye, even when gunfire was all around him. But Will had to honestly say he'd never seen his horse quite as on edge as he did at the moment with Libby sitting alone atop him. Cap was starting to think it was a bad idea, putting her up there like that, but he didn't want to let Libby on to that.

"No!" She yelped as the beast shuffled his feet to the side a bit, becoming restless. "But he's _yer_ horse!"

"I ain't never seen you even hesitate ta go on walkin' up and reachin' out at him before. Ain't no difference. Same horse!" He wasn't going to let her wimp out. She was such a…. _girl,_ it was almost pathetic. Libby was good as Hatfield anyhow, and every Hatfield woman knew how to ride and shoot. It was only proper for her to learn.

"I wanna git down!" she cried as Cap clicked his tongue and lightly shoved the animal's rump, the horse beginning a soft trot along the fencing of the paddock.

"Don't ya _dare_!" he warned her. If she got off that horse, he was going to trounce her. It had been a project just getting her on his back after she lost their little bet. If she got down now, he might strangle her. "See, yer doin' jus' fine. He likes ya; ya were jus' makin' him scared bein' such a baby" he pointed out.

And without missing a beat, just as a look of calm and sudden confidence seemed to come across her face, Johnse came out of nowhere, and hopped up on the fence jut as Libby came by, spooking Cap's horse and making him rear up. It was the only time Cap had ever seen his horse do that, and he knew it must be because Libby had gotten him all wound up being so uneasy herself.

One thing was certain; he'd never hear the end of this one. He knew that the second her butt his the dirt.

With a scream, she went flying backwards and landed flat, on her back, immediate cries of pain and sobbing from fear as Pistol jogged a few paces away and calmed down on his own, snorting and flaring his nostril as he shook his mane out and swished his tail.

Libby clutched her arm on the ground, eyes squeezed shut as she whimpered in pain, Cap marching right up to a regretful looking Johnse. He had only meant to come watch and maybe tease Libby a bit. He hadn't meant to make the horse dump her. Unluckily, Johnse wasn't one to think far ahead, and somehow hadn't even considered the current outcome. But Cap didn't care why he'd done it. All that mattered was that he _had_.

"Took me a damn hour ta git her up there 'n the first place ya moron!" And Cap just let Johnse have it then, socking him right in the nose. They were the same height now, despite Johnse being two years older. Will grew like a weed though, as if he'd shot up overnight all of a sudden. And the younger of the two boys was most certainly the rougher and tougher of them. Which meant, unfortunately for Johnse, Cap packed a bit more of a punch than his senior, and was much more apt to throw one in the first place. Johnse was more a lover than a fighter. Cap had already found himself in a few scraps with the McCoy boys though, especially Tolbert and Pharmer, and their cousins Sam and Paris. Johnse had jumped in once or twice, but it always ended up being Cap who got the best shots on the McCoys, and had to be restrained.

Instead of really giving his older brother a beating though, Cap left it at that, knowing it would only be a short amount of time before their mother showed up, Cap sure she must've heard Libby's wailing.

Hopping the fence swiftly while Johnse cradled his bleeding nose, cussing and swearing all had been accidental, Cap knelt down beside Libby on the ground before he scooped her up easily.

"I hate you Johnse Hatfield!" Libby squealed as pain rushed through her shoulder from her elbow, "An' I hate you too!" she continued, teary eyes angrily glaring at Cap.

"Shut yer mouth. Woulda been fine if some _idiot_ hadn'ta done nothin' _stupid_," Cap emphasized, wondering why on earth Johnse had to go and ruin it just as she'd begun to get the hang of it.

"What's happened out here?" Levicy demanded from the laundry, watching her son a second before rushing up to where he carefully climbed the fence while strategically balancing Libby in his arms before he jumped to the ground on the other side in a catlike way.

"_Was_ teachin' Libby ta ride till Johnse come runnin' up an' Pistol thrown her," Cap informed his mother, not even hesitating as he walked towards the house. His pap and hers would both wring his neck if she was badly damaged, and they might even kill Johnse when they found out he'd been the reason the horse had spooked.

"Yer father's gonna tan yer hide when he hears 'bout this one Johnson!" Cap heard his mother scolding his brother as he sat Libby on the table, immediately rolling up her sleeve to see she had a skinned elbow. No bones seemed to be poking through thankfully though, not like when Skunkhair had gotten thrown from his own horse down near the river and broke his forearm two years ago. Never healed quite right he claims too.

"It hurts Will," she whimpered as he wet a rag in the wash basin and cleaned it out, the open cut stinging, Levicy ushered Johnse inside as well, holding a handkerchief to his nose, though she looked highly displeased with him.

"Here, move it around," he told her with a roll of his eyes. He thought she was likely being over dramatic, and when he saw her range of motion was just fine, he was sure of it. "Yer fine," the boy insisted. "Just a scrape an' maybe a bruise later on."

Libby looked a bit perturbed by his diagnosis, biting into her lower lip as she pouted, looking him dead in the eye as she urged him to make a bigger scene just to get Johnse in trouble.

"I'm real sorry Lib. Honest, I didn't mean fer that ta happen," Johnse apologized, though Libby wasn't certain if it was because he meant it or because his mother had smacked him on his head and demanded that he say he was sorry.

With a 'hmph,' Libby turned her nose up and Johnse, not so forgiving at the moment, though only an hour or so would pass before she was over it. But Will might have been more begrudging about it than she was, time showing the increasing distance between the brothers, as they evolved into two very different people.

"Yer a damn fool, y'know that?" Will called out, feeling as though Libby was lucky to not be hurt, with Johnse being as dumb as a plank of wood. "Yer lucky I don't—"

"Enough Cap," Levicy interrupted her son, and obediently, Will shut his mouth, though he didn't want to. Libby looked on, a little startled by the tension between the two brothers, seemingly forgetting her skinned elbow and the fuss she was making over it.

"Aw Mama, Cap's just sore 'cause Uncle Jim told him not ta be bothered with a priss like Libby an' leave girls like her ta me instead." Cap's jaw clenched as his brother snickered, feeling as though it was revenge for the punch in the nose he'd taken, embarrassing him right in front of the girl in question. It was the truth, though everyone knew it had been Jim's idea of a joke. Cap hadn't been amused by it then either, though he'd played it much cooler in front of his uncle.

"You askin' fer an ass whoopin' 'r what?" the younger boy growled, ready to deliver as he stepped towards his sibling.

"That's enough outta botha you!" Levicy stepped in, moving between them and looking back and forth at both boys. "Libby in't some prize ta be won. She's a girl, not a possession. So bickerin' about Jim teasin' ain't gonna get anyone anywhere." No one dared to speak back to the Hatfield matriarch, so all three children sat silently. " Go an' clean up fer supper. All three of ya!"

Without a word, both Libby and Will made to do as they were told, Johnse still holding his nose, though it seemed to have finally stopped leaking blood.

"I don't even like Libby like Cap does anyhow," Johnse grumbled under his breath as he walked in the opposite direction, though the accusation didn't go unnoticed by Elizabeth and made her heart flutter with hopes that he was right.

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